


Bioshock - Rapture: Paradise Lost

by DanielPS



Series: Bioshock - Rapture: Paradise Lost / Alone with my City [1]
Category: BioShock 1 & 2 (Video Games)
Genre: BioShock References, BioShock: Minerva's Den, Inspired by BioShock, M/M, Multi, Rapture (BioShock)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-21
Updated: 2020-10-21
Packaged: 2021-03-09 01:42:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 64
Words: 71,194
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27136084
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DanielPS/pseuds/DanielPS
Summary: Lured by promises of free enterprise and evolved society, Edward - an English Valet born into poverty, relocates with his master Lord Sheridan Fortesque, to Rapture, where the wealthy aristocrat has sights to building a business empire. Rapture's flaws however soon begin to show, and the cities madness soon threatens to bring them crashing down. PLEASE REVIEW :)
Series: Bioshock - Rapture: Paradise Lost / Alone with my City [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1980736
Comments: 2
Kudos: 2





	1. Chapter One

He pressed one hand against the cold glass – at least to a layman it was as good as glass, although Edward had learned it was some sort of new metallic compound with the benefit of being translucent.

His warm breath created a mist on the surface, before gradually fading away. He had seen the city below from a hundred different angles already, but even a thousand more couldn't surely subdue the awe it filled him with. Here, over a mile and a half beneath the sea, sprawling across the seabed, was Rapture. A brand new city, its foundations barely a year old, Rapture looked excited to be alive.

The panoramic windows of the premier apartment, situated at the very peak of the Mercury Suites building, gave one of the most sought after views out across the submarine metropolis. The city was glowing magnificently, a shining beacon of hope for the future. Its art-deco buildings, modelled on the skyscrapers of Manhattan, rose proudly and boldly from the ocean floor, lit with neon signs that boasted only the first few of Rapture's new businesses, facilities and attractions. Not only had they built a city underwater, facing a plethora of trials and dangers considered impossible to overcome, but they had built a city that even in its infancy, overshadowed any other city on Earth with its scale, ingenuity and grandeur. The thousands of lights doused the ocean with soothing, beautiful shades of green and blue, all of which only seemed to enhance the elegance and extrovert architecture employed in Rapture's design.

Edward took a step away from the window, and turned to look around the lounge. It was massive, with stunning wooden floors and walls lined with mahogany and marble. A chandelier the size of a motor-car hung over the staircase. He caught sight of himself in a mirror that reflected him and the backdrop of Rapture behind him, his newly tailored suit and brogues. In that reflection, he saw a gentleman of promise. He saw a wealthy and confident young pioneer at the very forefront of human endeavour and progress. None of that could be called shabby, not for someone who was a mere footman three months ago, born from a couple of drunkards who ran a pub in a London backstreet, only to turn it into a brothel out of necessity once they'd consumed all the booze themselves rather than bothering to try and sell it at the bar.

He pushed those gut-wrenching memories to the back of his mind. They were history. That pub and his parents were history. Hell, even London would probably soon be history, if Andrew Ryan was to be believed, the visionary and founder of Rapture.

Edward had spent much of the voyage out from Southampton mulling over the promises Andrew Ryan had made about Rapture, about its advances in technology and philosophy, but moreover, the promise that Rapture not only accepted freedom of self-expression, but that it actively promoted it. It seemed such a giant leap forward, a philosophy that had always felt a thousand years away from 1946. If that was true, Rapture was going to be perhaps the only place on earth where Edward could from today, begin living as the person he felt, Edward Carson was supposed to be.

A door to the side of the lounge opened, and the honorable Lord Sheridan Fortesque appeared, the distinct knock of his cane against the wooden floor giving him away. He stood at nearly six foot, athletic and handsome. His thick blonde hair was usual cut very tidily, but since preparing to move to Rapture, he'd left it to grow longer – was a hidden, more artistic side to his lordship coming out already?

"I've arranged for the steamer trunk to be taken straight upstairs to the master bedroom, and the smaller ones have just been dropped off in the entrance hall." Edward started, the habit of reporting his management of Lord Fortesque's affairs withstanding.

Lord Fortesque – Sheridan, didn't bat an eye at the news of the luggage, but instead strode right up beside Edward, placing as little pressure as he could manage on his cane, and joined Edward in looking out over their new, deep-sea home.

"You don't need to worry about any of that anymore you know." He started, his eyes widening just as much as Edwards had done at the view through the window.

"Rapture has given us exactly what we never thought we'd get. A chance to throw off this façade and live out and proud!" He turned back to face Edward.

"You are no longer my valet, Edward. Down here, we are free to be just what we've dreamed off." He reached out then, and took Edwards hand. "We are equals, partners. Partners in whatever new businesses we can get ourselves into down here, and partners in life." Edward, born into poverty and filth, was now the lover and soon to be the new business partner of one of the world's wealthiest men, and for the first time in his life, he could say it out loud!" Sheridan leant forward and planted a soft but passionate kiss on Edwards's lips.

"Thank god for Rapture!" Edward chuckled.

"Don't let Andrew Ryan hear you say that! He built this city for us remember, and God's not invited to Rapture".


	2. Chapter Two

"One day earlier"

The sea was rough today, and clouds heavy and black as they shrouded the sky. It was a bitterly cold winter.

The RMS 'Queen Mary' was easing her way carefully through the waves, a shining, mighty leviathan against the bleak horizon. She was supposed to be in dry-dock, still reported publicly to be undergoing her transformation back from troop-carrier to luxury liner following the end of the second world war. Her conversion however, had been accelerated dramatically, through the generous financial contributions and extra labourers offered to the Cunard shipping line by American businessman Andrew Ryan. In return for the funding, Andrew Ryan had secured exclusive, confidential use of the massive passenger ship for the rest of the month.

"Edward and Sheridan stood side by side on the promenade deck, clutching to the railings as the ship lurched and rolled amongst the waves. They had been picked up by the 'Queen Mary' four days ago, tendered out secretly by ferry from Southampton to the waiting Queen behind the Isle of Wight. Their cargo, furniture and belongings had already been sent on ahead in monthly shipments.

Dinner had been served, and whilst many of the other passengers had retired to the smoking lounges, salons or their suites, Sheridan, still of an age to indulge a youthful rebellious streak, had subtly whispered to his valet instructions to meet him out on the promenade.

As the young, English aristocrat stood and, to the naked eye of any passing stranger, delivered instructions to his valet whilst enjoying a cigarette out in the open, he was in fact offering instructions of a far more intimate nature – instructions that despite their composed and innocent composure, inflamed both men with lust and a ferocious appetite for the unspeakable deeds that passed from Sheridan's lips.

For years now, the respected, internationally renowned Lord Sheridan Fortesque had sufficed with a secret relationship with his manservant, Edward, the secrecy vital to not only his staying out of her majesty's prison, but also the safety of his business interests and the stability of the Fortesque family fortune.

Edward Carson looked up at his master, stood beside him, his hands clasped around the handrail as the ship took another deep roll to port. How he loved that great man. When he had first gained employment as a footman in the Fortesque household, he had very quickly developed an innocent but strong admiration for Lord Sheridan. Only a few years his senior, he'd been both dismayed but fascinated how someone near his own age lived such a different life. At that time Edward had only just escaped the slums and was just starting to teach himself basic spelling – whilst watching Sheridan spending hundreds of thousands of pounds, travelling to distant continents and making complicated business decisions that affected the lives and incomes of hundreds. How distant their worlds had been.

With a quick glance over his shoulders, Sheridan slipped a hand along the railing and place it tightly over Edwards, and gave it a squeeze. "If you think my plans for you in the cabin tonight are obscene boy, just wait until we are settled into our apartment down there…!" He gestured with a mischievous smirk to the ocean beneath them.

Edward was excited – but at the same time nervous about the prospect. Nowhere on earth would offer them approval, so he did wonder how on earth Sheridan was expecting it to be so easy in this new 'colony'.

They had been open about their feelings for one another for almost three years now. The first 'mishap' had been even before the war – when going about his duty to prepare the master bedroom for the evening, Edward had stumbled upon his master pleasuring himself to a saucy photograph of a naked man. Every fibre in his being has told him to quickly leave the room and hope for mercy – but he'd stayed. He'd stayed and watched, which had seemed to only excite Sheridan even more. There had been no further interactions between them other than those Edwards duties as footman dictated, until the war.

It had been obvious that Lord Sheridan had arranged for Edward to be appointed his batman, but after such a long period of time since that first incident, Edward hadn't been sure as to why he would do so. Perhaps it had been simply to have a familiar face, no matter how vaguely familiar, beside him to remind him of home, as he charged over the top of the trenches and led his men into battle. The night that explosion hit their camp, they had lost most of the garrison. Edward and Sheridan had been entombed by a collapsed doorway inside one of the officers shelters. The attempt they'd made at small talk and masculine jokes to keep up morale had barely lasted three hours into the night, before they had fallen into their first passionate embrace. Once they had been rescued, there had been no going back for them – neither could deny to the other any longer that a connection had formed, crossing the great class divide.

Edward smiled as he recalled that first night again. Sheridan had looked just as handsome caked in mud as he did now, dressed in a tuxedo with his blonde hair swept back. As he did daily, he wondered how this could have happened for him, to be taken under the wing of such a person. He looked back out to sea, down into the waves and deeper than that. With this wondrous new city to soon call home on, or rather beneath the horizon, he wondered just how much better life could possibly get.


	3. Chapter Three

The great ocean liner had stopped. The clouds and winds had subsided enough for the majority of passengers to step outside and gave upon the lighthouse – the first step to reaching the great city.

It was quite surreal, the lighthouse stood tall and proud, rising straight up out of the sea. There was nothing else in sight, just the tower. It was beautifully designed, built out of an unfamiliar, dark stone. It's sides were clad with bronze panels, and above the lamphouse, towered a statue that could have rivalled those of ancient Greece, holding up a huge illuminated orb.

The logo printed on all the official correspondence from the population scouts made sense now, it was the official city logo, and incorporated a silhouette of that very lighthouse.

Already the ship's crew were lowering a number of lifeboats, ready to tender the first passengers across. One was already across and being unloaded, weighed down with the first of the steamer trunks and suitcases destined for the bottom of the sea.

Lady Amelia Fortesque stood out on deck. The ancient socialite was unmistakeable to anyone accustomed to high society, but the air of disapproval and regret hung around her. Her aged, arched body was covered in heavy furs and scarves, and a thick velvet hat sat atop her grey hair. She turned and reached out towards her son's valet with a bony arm barely strong enough to support the numerous bracelets, rings and diamond clusters it was decorated with. She clicked her fingers awkwardly.

"Boy – fetch my maid at once." She growled. Edward, who had accompanied her up on deck, nodded politely and made his way inside. Once out of sight, he could let his pleasant, emotionless expression subside and he scowled as hard as he could. "Nasty old bitch."

Although the Fortesque fortune had passed to Sheridan on his twenty-fifth birthday, Lady Amelia was still the overbearing matriarch of the family – thankfully blissfully unaware that her son was goosing his valet every time her back was turned. She had bigger fish to fry anyway – Lady Amelia had been dead set against relocating to Rapture from the beginning, and had been sure to express her loathing of the plan for the length of the voyage. However, she had been left with little choice, when Sheridan had begun selling off the estates and businesses they owned. When he had withdrawn her entire allowance and converted it into Rapture dollars, she had locked herself in her bedroom for a week.

Edward made it to the C deck suite they had been occupying – the largest on the ship. He found Jessica, the maid, and instructed her to quickly attend to the griping old cow up on deck.

"Giving you an earful was she?" Edward smiled when he heard that smooth, eloquent voice from the doorway. Lord Sheridan stood there smiling.  
"Is it too late to offer her the chance to swim back?" Edward chuckled. Sheridan closed the door behind himself, and took Edward into his arms.  
"We've been summoned, first to disembark! Apparently Anton has insisted that he escort us down personally – he's over at the lighthouse waiting." Edward pulled from Sheridan's arms in a hurry.  
"Well then I'd better start getting these last few cases sorted…" Sheridan grasped his arm and swung him around. "First, boy. You change out of that valet uniform." He opened the wardrobe, and took out a brand new, tailored suit.


	4. Chapter Four

The small tender boat had given a choppy crossing, but finally they were stepping out onto the first few stone steps that led up towards the lighthouse.

"I still can't fathom why you've dressed your valet up like one of us - he looks a clown Sheridan, it's absurd." Lady Amelia was spouting off at Sheridan as he helped her unsteady figure out of the boat. He said nothing to her, but winked up at Edward, who had already climbed the steps with a few of the suitcases they'd elected to keep with them. That old buzzard was in for a shock, very soon.

The doors that led inside where huge, solid bronze or something similar. The attention to detail even here bode well for what they might expect down below. Just as he stepped inside, Edward did glimpse up at the sky, and wondered how long it may be before he saw it again.

Just inside, waited Anton Kinkaid. "My friend! Sheridan!" He threw open his arms and gave Sheridan a warm hug. "Finally you get to see everything with your own eyes, you won't believe it I tell you!"

Sheridan laughed at Anton's explosion of enthusiasm. "I hope I'll believe it is worth as much as I've paid you rascal!" Anton gestured towards a further flight of stairs that led down into a large chamber.

"A few more steps, and you will see my friend!"

Edward held back. He enjoyed seeing Sheridan smiling and laughing, and it did wrench his guts whenever he couldn't be part of it. That was going to change now, but taking it one step at a time was always the best course. As the two men discussed the lighthouse, Edward looked up, and gasped as he found himself face to face with an enormous bust of Andrew Ryan. It was impressive but rather imposing and slightly sinister. Already, with those large cold eyes staring down, Edward felt that his every move was being watched and judged – not exactly how he'd wanted to feel on his first day in this 'land of the free'.

"He shrugged it off, and began to tail behind Lady Amelia as their group followed Anton Kinkaid into the chamber below, where a familiar sight awaited them. Now Edward was no genius, he knew he wasn't even remotely intelligent. So it thrilled him to know that the large bubble-like vehicle bouncing around before them was called a 'Bathysphere'. He'd travelled frequently with his master to all of his meetings with Anton back in England. Back then, Anton had been a simple engineer, working freelance on some equipment for the Royal Navy. When he had begun his own start-up business, the 'Austen Deep Sea Diving' Company, he'd struggled to find any potential financiers who didn't think his notions of 'radio controlled submersibles' were mere flights of fancy. Sheridan however, on the prowl for worthwhile business ventures to invest in, had lost a cousin during the war, whilst diving on a German U-Boat in a vain hope to acquire German Naval documents, and felt that any advances in Submersibles, especially if they could be made to carry out dangerous missions without humans inside, was a worthwhile endeavour, and had purchased a fifty percent stake in Kinkaid's company.

Anton had built his first 'Bathysphere' within six months of Sheridan's initial investment. Admittedly however, it had been a far inferior machine to the vessel they now looked upon. It had a large glass frontage, and inside it appeared to be fitted out with mahogany and red carpet!

"Well my dear Anton, this is most impressive I must say. You've made quite some impressive enhancements. How on earth have you managed all that glass?" Sheridan cheered, reaching closer and touching it.

Lady Amelia clicked her tongue and shook her head. "Typical, can't keep his hands to himself. Has to touch everything."  
Anton looked at her in confusion, but quickly managed a smile. "Well he has every right to my Lady, it's as much his as it is mine." She looked away arrogantly, masking her complete inability to understand what was going on.

"Going back to the glass, it's only the first improvement I've made. But I'll have to bore you with the specifics later – a lot of the new materials Ryan had been keeping under wraps for the construction of Rapture have been passed on for me to purchase and employ in my latest designs. This glass – it's actually a new form of steel!" Anton kept chattering away with pride as he gestured and the group of them moved inside and sat down. The large glass door swung shut after them.

Edward clasped his hands together, feeling slightly nervous at the prospect of finally travelling underwater.

"Nervous?" Lady Amelia's hand maid, Emily, whispered into his left ear. The two didn't really have a lot of time to converse usually, Lady Amelia had always seen to that. It was probably for the best anyway, as Edward had suspected for a while that Emily had harbored more than just a friendly fondness for him.

"I don't deny that I'm slightly apprehensive." He quietly replied, all the time his eyes watching to check Lady Amelia's eyes were fixed elsewhere. "But I know Lord Sheridan trusts Mr Kinkaid's designs, so this contraption must be safe." He reassured her.

"Still, it's scary. I'm glad I'm sat next to you Edward." She shuffled up closer to him so that their hips touched. "Will you look after me, down there I mean" she continued, her poor voice ruined by the poor articulation and accent gained from the orphanages of London. He tried not to look down on her, as his origins were no less humble, yet the promises that Sheridan kept making, that he would be lifted up to a higher social standing, made him hesitant to converse with Emily on her level. He was ashamed of that feeling, that hesitation, but neither could he drown it out.

Suddenly, Anton leant over and began manoeuvring some levers in the middle of the Bathysphere. It shuddered, and instantly began to sink. The two ladies shrieked, but quickly stifled their outbursts for fear of embarrassment. Even Lord Sheridan looked slightly wary at first, as the water rushed up and over the giant glass door. The world outside the sphere went dark, and they all sat silently under the illumination of the overhead lamp.

"So remind me how many of these we have now produced?" Sheridan asked.

"Thirty so far, that's been ample to service the small portion of the city that is already pressurized and habitable. But now the first shipment of residents is here, we'll really see how our planned system holds up against demand. And of course we'll need to start considering how thin we can spread the fleet as new buildings and public spaces are constructed throughout Rapture needing transport links." Sheridan nodded in response.

"Now do you understand how much of an opportunity this investment was mother?" He turned to Lady Amelia, whose grimace had somehow managed to turn even more grim. She just exhaled dramatically and looked away.

"And what of this damned Atlantic Express Anton? How much of a head start do we have?"

Anton crossed his arms and huffed. "Bloody Prentice Mill and his damned trains. Well he has the Whales Brothers on his side, they had already factored in his train stations into many of their designs, so whilst we had the leap in starting construction first, it's going to take Mill less time that we first thought to start putting up extensions of his rail network, and rumor has it the next cargo shipment out of America is carrying the next six of his carriages."

"Damned underhand of Ryan's recruitment goons not to inform us of this Atlantic Express from the very beginning – we could have taken a very different, more aggressive approach to our construction time-frames if we'd known we had competition." Sheridan sat back into his seat. He was about to say more, when another large leap shook the Bathysphere, and cut him off. The submarine had come free of the rails that fed it to and from the lighthouse shaft, and it was now floating free. A large lamp fitted to the outside of the hull flickered on, and illuminated the water ahead.

Lady Amelia, struggling to maintain her condescending expression, shifted in her seat from fright, and threw out her frail arms to steady herself against the hull and her seat. "I really, really don't like this." She spat.

Emily jumped too, and let a soft, timid hand fall onto Edwards's knee. It was a bold move for her, if it had been intentional.

"Nothing to worry about friends, we are already half the way down! We are over a mile under the surface now!" Anton clearly couldn't read the blatant terror on the faces of the rest of the group.

"Suddenly, a large screen descended over the viewport, and from a small device at the rear of the cabin, a film was projected up onto it.

" _I am Andrew Ryan…_ " a voice rang out from hidden speakers. A picture flickered up as part of the film, portraying the man himself. Edward could finally put a name to the face. He'd seen a number of letters passing between Sheridan, Anton and this elusive 'Andrew Ryan', but had never seen a picture of him until now. He was younger than Edward had imagined, at least for a man who had amassed such a reportedly vast empire.

The monologue continued…

" _and I'm here to ask you a question. Is a man not entitled to the sweat of his brow? 'No!' says the man in Washington, 'It belongs to the poor.' 'No!' says the man in the Vatican, 'It belongs to God.' 'No!' says the man in Moscow, 'It belongs to everyone.' I rejected those answers; instead, I chose something different. I chose the impossible. I chose... Rapture!_ "

"It was at that moment, that the screen rolled up, and for the first time, Edward, Sheridan, Amelia and Emily had their first view of the huge, deep-sea city.  
Emily's grip on Edwards knee tightened, and he could see her jaw drop. It was a lot to take in for such a simple girl. Already it was emitting so much light, that one could see across the cityscape almost as clearly as one may see across London on a spring evening from the top of tower bridge.

" _…a city where the artist would not fear the censor, where the scientist would not be bound by petty morality, Where the great would not be constrained by the small! And with the sweat of your brow, Rapture can become your city as well_."

For the first time since they began their descent, Edwards mind was taken off the depth at which they now where. He'd been overtaken by awe and raw excitement – the type he'd felt as a boy seeing a funfair for the first time. Failing to hold back a smile, he looked across the small cabin at Sheridan, who was already looking back at him with the exact same smile. Sheridan leant over, and placed his hand on Edwards other knee – forgetting for the first time, the façade they had always had to present.

"We've done it, we're here!" He cheered. Lady Amelia saw the display, it was horrific enough for her to pull from her astonished gaze upon Rapture and to swipe a slap clean across Sheridan's face. "What on earth do you think you are doing? You forget he is help, not a friend!"

Sheridan was clearly shocked by the slap, and sat up straight in silence as he cradled his cheek. As Anton bowed his head, awkwardly trying to pretend he hadn't noticed the humiliating display, Sheridan's face grew as red as the rash developing where his mother had struck him.  
It took all of Edwards self-control to keep his mouth shut. He yearned for Sheridan to finally bite back, and confess all. Confess that Edward wasn't just the help, or for that sake even a friend – they were lovers! He'd spent night after night rolled up naked next to her son whilst she slept, entirely ignorant to the affair – up in her bats belfry of a bedroom.

"You will never do that again mother, and things are about to change." Sheridan did answer back, but his answer was still restrained.

Finally, the Bathysphere descended down between the 'skyscrapers' – or perhaps they should be called 'Seascrapers' down here – and started to wind a route along what resembled an avenue. Large billboards and electronic displays decorated the outsides of the buildings – advertisements for businesses and attractions across the city.

"At last with an excuse to break the tense atmosphere, Anton Kinkaid pointed out to their own signage on a passing corner – "Rapture Metro". "There's our sign Sheridan – the first of many, naturally."  
"Good of Ryan to have those put out" He murmured.  
"Ryan? Hell, no we paid for that. A pretty penny too – I'm learning all too quickly that nothing in Rapture is free!" Anton chuckled, "But I guess that's the point, ain't it!"

More signs passed by, and those of them interested more in some than others would be the person to point them out… 'Fleet Hall', 'Footlights Theatre', 'Tea Gardens', 'Adonis Spa'…  
They rounded a final bend, pushing their way through a school of passing fish, and were drawn into a tunnel. As with the lighthouse, the Bathysphere glided onto a set of rails, and began its ascent into the 'Rapture Welcome Centre'.


	5. Chapter Five

**Arcadia**

The two young men crossed the little bridge, and started to wind their way through the Tea Garden towards the Rolling Hills, enjoying the gentle tune 'Midnight, the Stars and You' played over the intercom.

"They could have so easily made this just a functional facility to provide the City's air, but it's a stroke of Business genius to turn into both that and a leisure destination – who wouldn't want to take stroll in parkland under the sea? It's simply incredible…" Sheridan admired the scenery around them, and couldn't stop looking up at the glass domes that held back the sea above them.

"Yes, I think we were lucky to find it so soon after arriving. Just think how busy it's going to get as more and more people come down from the ship – and all the other ships after that one!" Edward whined, enjoying their time alone together.

"I wouldn't worry too much – it's all so much bigger than I thought. Anyway, most people will be headed for that place called 'Fort Frolic' this evening, I heard over the intercom earlier that there is a ' _Welcome to Rapture_ ' cabaret show in Fleet Hall. Features some chap called ' _Cohen_ ', but I've never heard of him."

"I suppose you will be dining with your mother this evening?" Edward sighed, already disappointed at the inevitable answer.

"I think I will just for tonight, no need to wind her up unnecessarily." Sheridan could tell Edward was let down, and took his hand – looking both ahead and behind to see that nobody was around.

"But don't fret Eddie – She's only getting so much grace. I'm as eager as you to get it all out in the open. I already plan to be open about it with Anton as of tomorrow."

Edward squeezed his hand in appreciation for the gesture, and to signal his understanding. "I hope Rapture _will_ be different – but what if it isn't – it will ruin you, and this fantastic business empire you plan to build down here will never happen." Sheridan brushed it off with a deep laugh.

"I know it is going to be different. Anyway – Anton has too much of my money stuffed in his pockets to be so picky about what I get up to. Don't worry so much. If anything does go wrong, or we find Rapture really isn't for us, Ryan has promised that anyone wishing to return to the surface can request permission to do just that."

They turned a small corner, coming towards a gentle little waterfall. The flowers smelt beautiful, obviously thriving in their artificial environment. Over the doorway at the far end, was another of the illuminated 'Rapture Metro' signs.

"Tell you what, before we take one of the subs, I want to take a gander at the competition. I'm sure I saw on the map there was an Atlantic Express station in Arcadia…" Together they wandered further through the parkland, until a sign pointed to the Atlantic Express. Upon entering the station, Edward was amazed at just how much it resembled a traditional train station back up on dry-land. With the obvious exception of the huge glass domes overhead allowing a look out into the ocean, the only other difference to this station were the large metallic bulkhead doors that sealed both entrances that the trains would arrive through. One set of the doors were opening as they had walked in.

"We're in luck Sheridan – one is arriving right now." Edward pointed as the steel beast began to haul itself up out of the water and into the station. He felt Sheridan's grip on his hand loosen, and his face had lost part of its confident glow.

"It's quite impressive actually… most impressive."  
Water rained down from the curved roof of the Express car, and the conductor waited for the wash to subside before he opened the doors to allow his passengers to disembark. A crowd of around seven or eight people got out – the most in one go that they had experienced since beginning their exploration of Rapture. The people were all so well presented - finely tailored frocks and stylish suits. Having spent years wishing he could just fit in with such types, Edward puffed out his chest and tried to show off the expensive suit he too now wore.

Both young men had quite forgotten that they stood hand in hand, overtaken by their studying of the Atlantic Express carriage. True to the words of Ryan, most of the crowd passed without as much as a glance – but one woman, middle-aged and slightly less refined than the others, came to a stop beside them and dropped a giant suitcase. As she pulled out a cigarette and lit up, she bent right down and made no secret that she was staring at their joined hands.

"Well you two boys certainly are making yourselves right at home, aren't you?" She smiled, speaking loudly and with a fairly masculine, abrupt tone. She took a long inhale of her cigarette, and paused before slowly exhaling the smoke. Edward waited eagerly for Sheridan to speak up and break the silence.

"Well madam, I… I was told such out-dated taboo's were a thing of the past down here…" He sounded confident, but there was still a slight nervous stammer in his words.  
"Oh don't you boys mind me – doesn't bother me. I'm too busy to care either way – got my hands full with this damned forest I've got to grow!" She took her cigarette to her lips again.

"You work in Arcadia I take it then?" Sheridan enquired, amused by her brash manner, and equally relieved by her nonchalant attitude towards them.

She blew out a cloud of smoke without much care for who intercepted it, then extended a hand.  
"Langford, Dr Julie Langford." She announced. "I've been down here two months already. I wanted to oversee the layout as the trees were planted. It would have done no good to have a whole forest shipped out here to the bottom of the sea, to then have a gaggle of idiots plant the tree's too close together and kill them before we'd even started. I plan to have this city breathing my air within six months, and we can finally come off of the oxygen lines Ryan has bringing air down from the surface."

She stubbed out her cigarette suddenly, and picked up her suitcase, leaning back uncomfortably under its weight. "Well you boy's have a good one. I'm off to start kitting out my labs. Pay us a visit some time if you're interested." She ventured off through the door and into the greenery beyond.

"Strange woman…I like her!" Edward giggled, but Sheridan had already walked away and up close to the waiting Express carriage. "What concerns me with this Eddie, is that it's a much simpler system than our Bathysphere's, less technology to go wrong and maintain at an expense. Not only that, but it can carry almost ten times as many people in one trip, and move at twice the speed." He peered a head into the open passenger salon. "And my… it's quite comfortable. Less the paupers alternative than Anton made it out to be. We'll have to try and keep a closer eye on this…"

Edward felt very out of his depth in making any comment when it came to Sheridan's business dealings, yet he felt it was now what his partner would want him to do.  
"Can you not look to buy a share in that company too? If only enough of one to get a look into its inner workings?" Sheridan smiled back sarcastically, but not mockingly.  
"My darling, Prentice Mill would laugh me out of the room. He'd know what I was doing. We'll just have to think of something at a later stage. We have the gimmick of being something entirely new for now on our side." He held out a hand, and gestured for Edward to join him inside the carriage.

"Come, let's take a ride, see some more of Rapture!"


	6. Chapter Six

**Market Street**

The tour of the city they had enjoyed on their journey down from the lighthouse had been spectacular, as was the one from their penthouse, but the view from the Market Street viewpoint was much closer to the city level, and from the promenade Edward and Sheridan could make out all the tunnels and walkways that connected all the skyscrapers and buildings together. From there, the city seemed so much busier, whereas from afar it had always looked so tranquil.

Arms entwined, the two men were exploring what was one of the first small shopping areas to be open, the other being 'Poseidon Plaza' but that was all too close to the crowds at Fort Frolic for them this evening – if it definitely was evening?

"That's something I'll have to get used to down here – with no sun in the sky, there won't be day or night… well I suppose one could argue that would be perpetual night." Edward sighed, looking up through the glass ceiling at the black sea.  
"I already told you, fool! The city lights dim at nine o-clock, to keep our body clocks ticking to their proper rhythm." Sheridan smiled, partially at Edward, partially as the vacant retail premises they were passing, that to him looked like a prime location for a small, boutique café.  
"That still means a whole lot of darkness. You can dim the lights for night, but you can't make up for their being no natural sunlight."

Sheridan was clearly distracted, not really offering any reply, so Edward gave up on his concerns for now. He really shouldn't be trying to find fault with something as astonishing as Rapture anyway. As the pair continued down past the Jet-Postal system, both men did notice a few more reserved glances their way from by-standers.

Edward wasn't sure if he was worried by the attention they were drawing, or elated by the novelty that he could show off that he was openly a queer. What he did enjoy, without doubt, was showing off that _Lord Sheridan Fortesque_ was his. Regardless of gender, Edward had snagged a real catch, and he hoped the ladies, and perhaps some other fellow poofs of Rapture would envy him bitterly.

A panoramic elevator took them up one level to the High Street. This area was still partially under construction, only 'Le Marquis D'Epoque' and a record store seemed to be open for business. A huge, elegant statue hung from a mesh of crane cables, waiting to be lowere onto what appeared to be an ornamental fountain. Beyond that to the left, a large area was cordoned off by large metal barriers, with 'Opening Soon' posters hung over them. Although not yet illuminated, a large overhead sign clearly read 'Cohen'.

"Whoever this Cohen chappy is, he clearly has his finger in plenty of pies around here. Seems to be buying up half the city before it's even complete – you'd better get in his good books!" Edward commented.  
"I don't see how a mere artist or showman, whatever he is, could afford to do so. Unless it may be more a case of who you know rather than what you know. I fear that harsh reality may offer Ryan some trouble in realizing a fair market for all, as he proclaims it to be."  
"In what way?" Edward asked, as they took a seat to peer out again into the sea.  
"Think of it – thousands of wealthy high society types will come flooding in – but they already know each other, they will know who they want to do business with. All the poor workers and average Joe's coming in will have to contend with the established circles and really prove their metal before they are given any place up with the big boys of Rapture and can start earning any sort of real money."  
"I guess you're right yes. Good thing this poor little runt has already bagged himself a millionaire then!" Edward giggled and snuggled his face into Sheridan's shoulder.  
"Cheeky bastard." Sheridan laughed, before offering his partner a quick peck.

"Sheridan!" The scream came cutting through the light Jazz and bustle of the crowds like a bullet, and struck them both hard. They looked around in shock, to find the crowd ahead parted, and Lady Amelia standing dead ahead. Her arms were arched outwards as if she was ready to pounce, and her face was aghast.

"Shit…" Sheridan croaked in horror.

"Get away from that boy this instant! Get away!" She gestured with her arms as she stormed closer. Then pointed directly into Edwards face.  
"Get away from my son, don't go near him you evil creature!" Out of panic, Edward stood to move away, but Sheridan grasped his arm and told him to stay.

"Mother will you stop making a scene – I thought you were staying in the penthouse?"  
"Well it's a good thing I didn't – I decided to give you the benefit of the doubt. I came out to take a look around this fishbowl you've dragged me down to, to try and enjoy it, and this is what I find instead!" She clapped her hands together over her mouth as if about to vomit.

"Mother! People are watching – stop it this minute!" Sheridan begged in a whisper.

"You're telling me this is my fault? You're telling me that I'm the issue here? You are sat kissing another man in a public place, and accuse me of creating a scene?" She shrieked this time…. Hysterically.

Watching the drama unfold, seeing his lover upset and arguing with his mother, Edward felt his face flush and tears well in his eyes.

"Mother – stop it this minute! I must insist you calm down! This is nothing to be ashamed of, not any more. Not in Rapture!" Lady Amelia seemed to look around as if trying to monitor the faces around her, the shame from their judging looks burning into her back.

"You should be ashamed, whether you are in Rapture or on the Moon, God see's everything! God will punish you, and now me for your disgrace."

Suddenly, before Sheridan could answer, two Ryan Security men appeared from behind the gathered crowd and seized Lady Amelia by her out-stretched arms.

"Come now m'lady, what's all this fuss? It's our first day here we can't be having such a tremendous scene! And we could charge you right now just for mentioning a religious figure…" They were perfectly civil men, and actually rather pleasant towards the struggling old woman.

"Charge _me_? You must charge _that_ man for gross indecency constable! Sodomy!" She wailed, casting her hand towards Edward, tears streaming down her face. "and you'll have to arrest my son too….." her enthusiasm for the second accusation fell, but Sheridan saw the conviction in her eyes. His mouth fell open, and he wept. Wept at the sight of his own mother willing to condemn him.  
"Sorry my dear, two problems there. Less of the ' _Constable_ ' talk, we aren't police men in the typical term. Andrew Ryan's our guvnor, and secondly, no such laws exist in Rapture. If these two geezers want to carry on together…well quite frankly that's their business and nobody else's. At least, not anymore it's not…" The security man was honest and polite, yet he still couldn't easily make eye contact with Edwards, nor Sheridan who had moved to cradle and comfort his partner.  
"Yet you'll threaten to arrest me for mentioning the almighty?" She snapped back, astonished.  
"What sort of sick place have you brought us Sheridan… where have you brought us?" Lady Amelia cried out, before pulling away from the security men and running from sight. Edward, Sheridan, the security men and the watching crowd were left in an awkward, seemingly eternal silence.

Finally, the second security man cleared his throat… "Well gents. I think that's our job done. We'll be bidding you all a pleasant afternoon…" he sheepishly moved away, dragging his feet. The second finally turned to face both men. "What you two are doing – it ain't illegal anymore, but by god don't assume for a second the lacking of a law against it won't leave people with their traditional opinions - after all, everyone here was still born and bred on the surface. Be careful…" he grunted, then walked away, dispersing the crowd.


	7. Chapter Seven

**Two weeks later.**

**Masons Quarter – Office of Daniel & Simon Wales**

"Surely you can agree after seeing these plans – it will be one of the signature buildings of the City when completed. We've taken so much from what we've learnt during Rapture's initial construction phase, and implemented that into these newer designs." Daniel Wales excitedly pitched, as he lent over the blueprints, his arms braced against the far corners of the desk.

"Visually, it's ideal. And the space inside is precisely what I was looking for." Sheridan was being cordial, but the businessman in him was at the fore now, and he didn't let his excitement get the better of him during such negotiations.

"I'm going to need you to go through the upkeep of such a building however in much finer detail. I've owned hundreds of buildings, Daniel, but not one of them was ever underwater. And I have zero experience with Ryanium."

"That'll exactly what you need, Sheridan! Zero experience! Ryanium is like nothing we've ever built with before Rapture's conception. It doesn't rust, warp or react with other materials. You can kiss goodbye to the maintenance costs you'd have been used to back topside, our buildings simply keep on standing."

Sheridan cast a skeptical eye to Edward, who as in his usual nervous back-seat in the corner. He then looked over at the less approachable Simon Wales, who was pretending to engross himself in some calculations, whilst clearly listening in on the whole conversation.

"I'm concerned that Ryan hasn't seen to it that you boys have to work to some kind of building regulations. Miracle materials or not, I only have your word to go on that this building will even be safe, or watertight!"

Simon Wales chuckled a sarcastic cough. Daniel Wales stood upright, and confidently crossed his arms. "Our company has always relied on me and my brother being able to guarantee perfection. We've never had a structure go down on us, never had a single customer complaint. That's why Ryan chose us to build his city – we're the best."

"The best you may be – _on land_." Sheridan corrected him, insinuating that in truth, these two brothers had never built underwater until Rapture.  
"Very well Daniel – I'll buy it. Tell Ryan I'll be over to sign the lease on the seafloor rent tomorrow."

Daniel Wales shone a toothy grin. "Excellent! Talos Tower will be yours!" He reached out and keenly shook Sheridan's hand. Even his brother Simon made the effort to amble over and gently shake.

"Ours…actually." Sheridan corrected him, and turned to beckon Edward over.  
"I'll be putting us both down on the purchase agreement as named owners. I'll need you to instruct the estate agents taking enquiries about the commercial premises in the building to ensure the contracts read with both names."  
Edward was stunned into silence for a moment, before reaching out and shaking Daniel Wales' hand. His words stuck in his throat, as he looked in shock at his partner.  
"Very well, I'll see to it straight away, and have all the paperwork drawn up, _for you both to sign_ , within the week." Daniel Wales announced with pleasure.

Growing more comfortable with the respect he was receiving from this person with every second that passed, Edward then threw out a hand to shake Simon Wales' hand also. The grouchy, bearded brother snatched his own hand back, with a little too much resentment than could be hidden, and glared at the pair.  
"Enjoy the building… whatever it is you do with it." He grumbled, before turning away and returning to his paperwork, muttering "Whatever next…" under his breath.

"Clearly panicking beneath his polite smile that his brothers homophobia may terminate the deal, Daniel Wales quickly smiled at them both again as hard as he could, and gestured to lead them to the door.  
"Your tower will be completed much quicker than most other buildings in Rapture, did I mention that?"

"How so?" Edward asked, impressed with his own confidence to speak first.

"Well doubtless you know of Dr Yi Suchong? The Korean scientists who sits on the Rapture Council?"  
Sheridan nodded, "Yes, but only by reputation. Word is he's brilliant."

"Well, he has developed a specialized work-force of deep-sea divers who can carry out the construction for extended periods of time. They are out there right now working around the clock!" Daniel boasted.  
"Specialized how? New diving equipment?" Sheridan asked over his shoulder as he left the office.  
"Errr… yes, something to that effect I understand. Well – a pleasure doing business Mr Fortesque. I'll be in touch very soon." With a quick wave, the office door closed.

"I don't know what to say… I don't know what to do even!" Edward gleamed. "How on earth can you put my name down on that building? I can barely spell 'building'!"  
"Spelling is one thing, but you have a brain in that skull my love, and that is what counts. I told you, from now on, we do this thing side by side. Fifty percent of the revenue we make from the commercial premises on the lower floors of the building will be yours."  
"Whilst Edward was still thinking of what was appropriate to say, Sheridan pulled him by the arm.

"Come on, I think it's finally time we check out Fort Frolic – all I've heard over the PA and on poster boards is this Sander Cohen's name. Lets see what all the fuss is about."


	8. Chapter Eight

**Fort Frolic – Fleet Hall**

They had fantastic seats, a small private booth just off to the side of the main seating area. The auditorium was grand, with patterned marble floors, and large bronze sculptures around the stage. The seats were filled to capacity, and the waiting audience tattled among themselves in anticipation for the opening number, which was always guaranteed to be a solo act by the great Sander Cohen himself.

"This curious character only lives a floor down from us you know. I saw his name above the door yesterday whilst I was coming back from the Farmers Market." Edward said.  
"I've learnt we actually live amongst most of the Rapture Council members, we just didn't know it. Give me time, and I'll be on that council." Sheridan winked ambitiously.  
"Dare I ask – how did Lady Amelia react when you invited her to come with us tonight?" Edwards tone was cautious, and genuinely concerned for the old girls well-being. Despite her narrow-minded views and the vile things she had said weeks ago on the High Street, she was Sheridan's mother.  
Sheridan sighed slowly before responding, his eyes glistening as his mind recalled the conversation. "She thanked me for the effort – in her own way. But she is still adamant that we will not spend any time with me, if you are with us. So it's her loss." He sounded adamant that it was she who would loose out if she kept up that way of thinking, which made Edward feel deep guilt, that he should be driving such a wedge between mother and son.

"Has she warmed up to Rapture at all?"  
"She's been out a few times apparently. She's taken a shine to Arcadia, as I knew she would, although she avoids the Tea Gardens after a certain time. Apparently it's rife with 'courting couples' as she put it!" Sheridan choked on his own laugh.  
"Hmm… better pay it a visit…" Edward pretended to mutter under his breath, teasing, and earning himself a playful punch from his partner.  
"Otherwise, I understand she's just been for wonders around the farmers market, Poseidon Plaza and had a few treatments at the Adonis. Trouble is, she is still determined to have a face like a wet Sunday, so she isn't making any friends down here. Even the elite socialites that she's entertained in the past back home are avoiding her."  
"Well… it's wonderful that we get so much time together down here, you know how much you've changed my life for the better. But I'm getting a bit more comfortable around these people now. I don't want you to feel like you have to be my protector all day long, and equally I don't want to be hanging on your apron strings wherever you go, because sooner or later, you will grow weary of it. So if you want to take your mother out without me, just to clear the air perhaps, I'll understand." Edward took a sip from his glass of Arcadia Merlot.  
"I know you understand, and I will take her out soon. To be honest, it's just I've needed some time to get passed her behavior. I needed to build up some courage. Because she'll still try and talk me out of this, and I'll end up having to tell her in detail just how long we've been doing this behind her back." Sheridan admitted.

The theatre lights began to go down. The voices began to hush, and the curtains swung apart.  
"My! My! What a beautiful crowd we have here this evening…! All to see little me!" The voice was loud, amplified through speakers around the auditorium. The figure of Sander Cohen then appeared from off stage.  
Edward stared upon the peculiar, weasel-like little man with curiosity. He looked so pale, so much so that he almost looked ill. He had rouge powdered on his cheeks, and was absolutely plastered in all manner of make-up. He looked so ridiculous that it was embarrassing to look at him. The wrinkled face beneath the make-up and the receding hairline made this sorry little man look all the more pitiful, showing how beneath the layer of cosmetics, he was obviously succumbing to age.

"My darlings! My darlings! Have I a treat for you all tonight, you'll flutter back to your nests tonight astonished by the genius of my latest works!"  
"If you do say so yourself…!" Edward tried to smirk, but his jibe fell on deaf ears, as Sheridan seemed transfixed by the strange performer.  
A cabaret number began, with a line of feathered ladies in tights and heels danced across the stage, mirrored then by a line of semi-nude, athletic young men who could somehow kick higher than the ladies line! Sander seemed all too comfortable moving closer to the line of boys as he sung an atrocious song over the music.

"I think we've found a kindred spirit… if you take my meaning. How unfortunate it's him." Edward tried again to joke. "Well, wouldn't you like to be in his shoes right now?" Sheridan jabbed him with his elbow. They shared a naughty smile. It would be the last for Edward however, as he endured the next two hours of the wailing Cohens' performance.

As the lights came up at the end, and Cohen, now costumed like some sort of deranged Easter bunny, took far too many bows, Edwards peered out of the side of his eye in astonished surprise, as Sheridan clapped whole-heartedly, and cheered 'Bravo'!


	9. Chapter Nine

**FORTESQUE PENTHOUSE - MERCURY SUITES**

The screaming was so loud, it could probably have been heard as far away as Olympus Heights. Edwards came running from the library into the entrance hall.

Emily, Lady Amelia's maid, stood beside the massive window.

"Good lord Emily, whatever is going on?" Edward wheezed, out of breath after his sprint. Her terrified face warmed when she saw Edward, but with a new hesitation to it.

"Oh I'm so sorry. I had just come in to leave a note for Lord Sheridan from Lady Amelia, and that thing was pressed right up against the glass!" She pointed outside. There was one of those 'construction workers' Daniel Wales had described. He'd already seen a few, yet still to Edward there was something not quite right about them. This one was clinging to the outside of the adjacent skyscraper, held in place by some sort of grappling hook, whilst it replaced a blown bulb on a glowing 'Pharaohs Fortune' billboard. They worked hard certainly, but those helmets made them seem so... soulless.

"I can understand the fright Emily, no harm done." He placed a friendly hand on her shoulder. She was still wearing her maids uniform, still very much a servant. She was smiling, but looked down at the floor, her eyes occasionally bobbing up to meet Edwards just to see what face he was pulling.

"Are you sure you are ok? I haven't seen you in an age?"

She bobbed on her knees, and nodded. "Yes sir, thank you sir." Edward was startled by the address, and lifted her chin with a finger to force her to look at him directly.

"My goodness Emily, there is no need for that? What on earth made you...?"

"Well... I'd heard things from Lady Amelia. Strange things that I didn't quite understand. I didn't know how I should speak to you. That is why I've thought it best to stay out of your way." Her voice was like that of a mouse, barely audible over the gentle rumble of the sea beyond the window or the crackle of the fireplace in the lounge.

"I'm no different Emily..." He tried to bring himself to her level. "But Sir...Edward I mean. Look at you, you're wearing clothes just as fine as Lord Sheridans! And you aren't a Valet anymore, you're not even in service." She explained. "Whilst I was running an errand for her Ladyship to Dandy Dental last week, I saw you and Lord Sheridan going in to Dr Steinmans clinic, as if you were equals you were!"

Edward recalled the trip to the Steinman clinic. They were investigating the possibilities that the surgeon could rectify Sheridan's limp from his war wound, so he could finally do without his cane.

"Emily... doubtless the courteous Lady Amelia has said more than that..." He waited to see if she could manage to say the words on her own. The ensuing stuttering and trembling eyelids told him she couldn't.

"You understand that we are more than good friends. Let us leave it at that for now. But Emily try to understand - it is only Lady Amelia's religious convictions that make it sound wrong. Rapture doesn't care!" He cheered, clasping both her shoulders with his hands. "Rapture can let you be whatever you want! Haven't you seen that for yourself yet?"

She humbly shook her head. "I work as Lady Amelia's maid, that is my place."

"Well why not make the change now, as I have? Tell the old cow to take a long walk off a short pier down in Neptune's Bounty, and start living your own life! Whatever you want to do, you can do it here!" He wanted to go on and list everything he'd already seen and done.

"Look!" He pulled her to the window, and pointed out towards a half-built structure a few blocks away beside a Skyscraper that resembled the Chrysler Building. "That, is _our_ building! Me and Sheridan, we bought it! I'm now a businessman! Who would have thought it possible anywhere else?" He realised he was monopolizing the conversation with boasts, rather than really encouraging the poor girl, so tried to tone down the exhilaration in his voice.

"I wouldn't know what to do Edward. I'm not clever, and I have no money." She replied.

"Just think about it, promise me. If the old lady really gets to you, then walk out! There are so many shops opening up around the city now, there will be more jobs that people looking for them! You could go wherever you like!"

She nodded silently again, the looked up at him. "Did you ever like me Edward? I really liked you." She resembled too closely a little girl stood in a school courtyard, waiting to be kissed.

"Of course, I've always _liked_ you." He awkwardly tried to find the right words to comfort her. "It's just, as you can now see - I could never like you how you wanted me to."

She nodded, yet again without a word. "I know. Well... thank you Edward. I must be going now." Without looking up from the floor again, she turned and let herself out the front door. Edward watched her leave with pity.

He stood watching the huge, looming figure outside the window as it went about its work fixing the sign, deep in thought, when there was knock at the same door Emily had left through. Edward sensitively didn't rush to open it, concerned it may be Emily back again with more confused questions.

Instead, he found a slightly older woman stood before him. Her face was drawn, her brown hair tied back but slightly messy. "Are you, Sheridan Fortesque?" She was German, her accent strong. It was the first time Edward had heard a German voice since the war, and it made him uneasy.

"I'm very sorry no, I'm Edward Carson."

"Ah - the homosexual partner of Fortesque. Yes, I know of you." her statement was so analytical, without emotion, as if she were a pathologist listing the findings coldly from a recent dissection. "My name is Brigid Tenenbaum. I am seeking Fortesque, as I understand he is interested in investment. I wish to offer him investment opportunity, in return for a favour from him and Mr Kinkaid." Her voice barely changed tone. "I live downstairs from you, next floor. Be sure to tell Mr Fortesque that he may call on me as soon as is suitable." Without a goodbye, she was then gone.


	10. Chapter Ten

**Private Bathysphere - Rapture's outer limits**

The small submersible gently hung in the water, like a balloon in the sky, gently bobbing as a passing currant nudged its hull. Anton Kinkaid had the observation lights turned up to full power, as he and Sheridan peered through the glass door at the latest construction site on the seabed. There were hundreds of those 'divers' climbing all over it, some with huge drills attached completely over their hands - although it appeared more as though those drills were replacing their limbs completely!

A batch of pre-fabricated structures had recently been lowered from one of Ryan's ships, and most where still hovering slightly overhead, suspended in their lunette rings, waiting to be placed into the steel frames currently being erected by the mysterious workforce.

"Just imagine if one of those steel frames failed..." Sheridan spoke out, "you'd have a building floating around completely out of control!"

"Maybe that's the idea!" Kinkaid chuckled, "If someone gets a bit too big for their boots down here, Andrew Ryan can just cut them loose!"

They smiled in unison, both mimicking humor, but both left with that nagging 'what if'. They returned to business. They'd taken their private bathysphere out to both scout the new station's for the 'Rapture Metro' that they'd contracted the Wales Brothers to incorporate in these new buildings, but also to update their maps on how far Prentice Mill had managed to reach with the Atlantic Express. Both men where concerned to see a small submersible platform, carrying a consignment of 'Atlantic Express' signs, rail beams and a further four express carriages.

"I fear we are going to have to revise our tactics Sheridan, he's caught up with us."

"Well we currently have a surplus of Bathysphere's, and now that the construction facility down here on the bottom is finished, we could churn out quite a few more per month." Sheridan began scribbling his thoughts and calculations down in his notebook.

"What would be the point if there isn't a demand? The metro system is keeping up with the demand for it, even with the latest five thousand arrivals."

Sheridan winked at Anton. "Ah yes, but that is it's _public_ demand. Back in England, I had a fleet of custom-made Rolls-Royces. They were a beautiful collection and it broke my heart selling them."

"Whats your point?" Anton pushed him,

"The Atlantic Express is faster than the Rapture Metro, and it can carry more people at once. It's the same as a public train line on the surface, in comparison to a taxi. But it's still all focused on moving the crowds around, the general public."

Anton began to smile and nod as he saw where Sheridan was going...

"Rapture is founded on the ideal of the self, self priority, self gain. Then lets appeal to the ego of man the same way my Rolls-Royces appealed to mine. We offer Bathysphere's for private sale, with customized interiors and features! The Metro will be our safety net sure, we'll make sure it keeps ticking away in the background, but with custom Bathysphere's we can really rival Prentic Mill's glorified buses!" Sheridan extended a hand to Anton, and the men excitedly shook on the new business plan.

"I'll confess my friend, the first few days you were down here, I was worried the old businessman I'd known had been placated, you were a bit distracted shall we say by your mother and... Edward, but you're come back swinging now old boy!" Anton cheered, leaning over to the controls and steering their Bathysphere onto a new course.

Sheridan felt a stab of shame over Anton's comments, but wasn't offended by his friends back-handed compliment. Yes, he supposed that he had let the excitement over being able to openly express his feelings for Edward to cloud his better judgement for a few weeks, but they were both happy now, and he knew it was time to start cracking down on work - the very reason he'd moved down to Rapture in the first place!

"It was all new, a novelty. And I thank you for not giving me any grief over my... shall we say my 'persuasion' in regards to Edward." Anton waved off the thanks, quickly dropping his gaze to the floor. Sheridan continued "But now that it's barely a taboo, it barely needs any more attention than had I married a woman and now settled down. and my mother, well - I've almost given up with her. Her maid walked out on her last week, not that I blame the poor girl, and since then she's just gone down hill. She sits alone in Arcadia, scowling over the brow of whatever book she's reading. I can't let her sulking put a hindrance on me any longer. I've already got too much going on down here to put at risk."

Anton nodded. "So I've heard - you opened that cafe, 'The Satyr' on Market Street didn't you. Alongside Austen Bathysphere and that new building you're fitting out, I don't know how you find the time to keep going to all those Sander Cohen show's you rave so much about."

Sheridans face lit up, a smile ear to ear. "Oh Anton you really should join us one evening - he's putting on a small play in the Footlight Theatre tonight actually. Yes he's rather old-school, perhaps slightly cheesy at times - I know Edward really can't stand the man, he comes just to keep me happy I think, - but Sander really does have a certain originally quality, and it's all his own work. He doesn't take anything from other artists."

Anton held up both hands - "ok, ok! You're selling him to me, just settle down!" They continued jotting ideas down in their notebooks and on Anton's maps. Sheridan began humming a Sander Cohen song to himself, blissfully unaware that he was doing so.

"By the way Anton, that deep-sea fishing prototype submarine you've built for that Fontaine chap, is it operational?"

"It is yes. It's just the prototype, but it works well enough to demonstrate it." Anton proudly confirmed.

"I've been approached by some kraut doctor woman with deep pockets, she wants us to take her out in it, to gather something from the seabed."


	11. Chapter Eleven

**Talos Tower**

Rapture's newest building was barely two months in its anchorage, and already it's hall were buzzing. Eighty percent of the retail outlets on the lower floors had been leased even before the building was finished, and now Sheridan had people trying to outbid each other for the remaining spaces. One of them had pockets too deep for his own good – the other however, had been a younger woman desperate to start finding herself an income, and had offered Sheridan's estate agents every Rapture dollar she had to secure her the remaining premises on the sixth floor.

In the end, his heart had gone out to her, and he had signed the lease over to her. Like him, she'd come from an English family of considerable wealth, however Ryan's bank had encouraged her to invest much of it into savings accounts with the promise of a favorable interest. She had however, then been met with binding contracts and fee's should she ever try to make an early withdrawl – or any withdrawl for that matter. She was now, reading between the lines, essentially a pauper with a title, who had nearly resorted to begging Sheridan for the chance to earn at least a living wage by opening a small pet grooming salon.

The experience with the young woman had made him pause for thought. Rapture had appealed to a select group of geniuses true – mainly those whose genius had come to an impass when regulated by law on the surface. The thousands of others however, appeared to have been invited to Rapture either because their skillset meant they would be useful in building and maintaining the great city, or because their bank balance, which had to be transferred into a Rapture bank without exception, was sizable enough to sure up and stabilize the city's young economy.

But already, people like that poor young woman opening her pet salon, were finding either that with the city's initial construction slowing down, that their construction skills were no longer required, or that with their personal fortunes tied up nicely in the Rapture banks, that they had no readily accessible means to support themselves or try their hand at entrepreneurship.

Sheridan had been very relieved by his ferocity when negotiating his banking contracts upon settling in Rapture - as from the outset it had been very apparent, that Ryan wanted almost every penny that could be accumulated to go into the Banks. Rapture couldn't profess to be a breeding ground for success and accomplishment, if it couldn't boast a thriving and strong economy.

Sheridan sat now at his large desk, looking out over his cavernous office that through it's many anti-chambers, dining rooms, file rooms and bathrooms, occupied the entire fifty-third floor. The amber glow from the lights made the golden sculptures and framework gleam, and accentuated the deep brown of the wooden floors. Everything then still bore the refreshing, cool glow from the enormous windows that filled the wall behind him. When he had asked the Wales Brothers for a 'respectable, slightly intimidating layout' for his office, in hope it would wow any visitors into submission before they reached out to him with their begging bowls, what they had gone on to provide instead, was comparable to a grand throne room! The hallway to his office from the elevators had his initials built into the marble floor tiles, and indoor fountains cascaded down towering sculptures into small ornamental gardens.

It was in fact Daniel Wales who now sat across his desk from him, holding a large blueprint out across the desk top, with a new chap beside him, sat in silence, taking everything in. His name was Charles Milton Porter.

"We can put your Bathysphere stations into these buildings without any trouble, and pending approval from Ryan himself, all major future construction projects will have a 'Rapture Metro' station included in their designs as standard, by a matter of contract." Daniel Wales finished.

"That contract will need to include all the fittings from us Mr Wales - very well having a station built, but without the transmitters and automation systems linking the travel routes, timetables and guidance systems to the Thinker's central core, nobody will be able to guide any Bathysphere into those stations without smashing themselves against some pillar or wall. It's a much more intricate system than you and I are used to designing for the Atlantic Express - those things are stuck on their rails, can't wonder about. Thinker says 'Go' and they go. With these Bathysphere's, we will need to factor in speed, depth, drift, course..."

"I have every confidence you can do it, Porter" Sheridan interrupted.

"I'd still like to take a closer look at one of your Bathysphere's if I may, Mr Ambrose? To see how I can start integrating Thinker's transmitters into their design?"

Sheridan smiled, "Are you free this afternoon? I'm taking someone out in one of our new fishing submarines, they operate on exactly the same technology. I'm sure you won't mind my guest - she's rather quiet most of the time, a Dr Tenenbaum?"

"Sure I don't mind." Porter waved a hand dismissively.

"And Daniel... do I have your guarantee that none of these arrangements are finding their way back to Prentice Mill? I know you've had a long working relationship with him, installing the Express routes, but I like to think you are professional enough to keep each project confidential."

"Mr Ambrose, you have my word. But in complete honesty, you have my personal favour in the matter. It is clear to most that Bathysphere's are the future - Prentice hasn't contracted any new stations or lines of track into the new city blocks. I suspect he's feeling the pressure of your stiff competition already."

Sheridan nodded at both men with satisfaction, and rose up out of his wing-back chesterfield office chair, extending a hand to shake on their agreements.

"Alas, I must be off now. Myself and Edward have dinner plans, and then we're attending Cohen's new skit at the Footlights Theatre."


	12. Chapter Twelve

**Arcadia - Rolling Hills**

Lady Amelia Fortesque sat solemly, quietly on a bench beneath a large oak tree. Her eye's were held lowered, to give the impression that she was engrossed in the book she held open in her lap.

Truthfully, Lady Amelia had read that book too many times to count, and was instead silently mourning for the life she had left behind, and was sat in dire boredom.

Sheridan, her disappointing son, had offered again for her to join him for a tour around that new building he'd purchased, and she supposed in her heart of hearts she did want to see it. But she knew that servant boy would be there with him, charading around as if he were a gentleman, a piece of mutton dressed as lamb. The same evil creature that had somehow corrupted her son with unspeakable sins of the flesh.

She had therefore again refused to be integrated into such a circle of ill repute. At least on her own, she could uphold her morals. She just wished desperately that she could find a way to share those morals and high standards with others in this city, which was quickly proving to be a den of wicked, selfish indulgences.

Covertly peering up from her book, she watched as a few people passed her by. A sweet looking couple walking arm in arm, a few friendly ladies whom she had tried to strike up conversation with more than once, and of course the occasional botanist studying and tending to the flora and fauna of Arcadia. She enjoyed watching the bee-keepers carry out the daily insertion of their tiny wards into the flower beds.

"Good Morning", a gentle, soothing voice carried to her ears from one side. Looking up, Lady Amelia found a tall, blonde woman looking over at her, her head held slightly tilted to the right, she wore thin, horned spectacles. She was plain in appearance, with modest but presentable clothes, however that plain facade seemed intentional, hiding a genuine, aged prettiness behind it.

"Would you object if I were to sit beside you?" She asked, her voice English, articulate and steady.

Lady Amelia had become so accustomed to offering the sharp side of her tongue to the degenerates that populated Rapture, that a spiteful remark seemed to automatically load itself into her throat, ready to be shot out of her mouth like a bullet, but something about this lady was distinctly different, she instantly took Lady Amelia off guard.

"If you wish, Madam. It's a pleasant spot to sit and read." She studied the mysterious woman some more, wondering what occupation would require the brown satchel she had hung at her side.

"It certainly is. I've only just come down to Rapture, and I'm still learning my way around, getting to know new people."

"Ha...don't hold out too many expectations of them. At least not in Rapture." Amelia got out a snappy remark at last - her son's recent sarcastic remark that she would die if she didn't snap about something within a five minute window came flooding back to her.

"I'm sorry you feel that way. I found I was starting to feel that way about people on the surface, that is why I'm down here now. Looking for my own slice of Utopia I suppose, and it wasn't to be found anywhere up there."

"Well Rapture is no Utopia madam. This cruel city encourages sin and wickedness, and justifies it as freedom of expression and pursuit of self worth. It's destroying my son as we speak." She slammed her book shut, and being offered a willing ear, turned to face the woman now sat beside her, hanging on her every word, reading her eyes intensely.

"Interesting - this city is still in its infancy, and already I've found a number like yourself, who have seen through its flawed philosophies and empty promises. I'd like to listen, and help you if I may... my name is Dr Sofia Lamb."


	13. Chapter Thirteen

**Neptunes Bounty**

Whilst an impressive, forward thinking design and as much a marvel of the age as the rest of the city, Neptunes Bounty was an offensive place to spend too long. Edward was stood at the end of one of the docks, his nostrils full of the strong stench of fish. Beneath the soles of his new brogues, the wooden pontoons were slippery and coated in mushed fish entrails and grime. Even the otherwise pleasant sound of water was interrupted by the thuggish shouting of the burly fishermen and drunken louts. "Oi Peachy, fetch us some more Gin - we'll need it if you're taking us out on Fontaine's next run!" One of the brutes called. The strange, withered looking little fisherman to whom they had refured to as 'Peachy' turned back to face them, red in the face. "Shut up you fucking idiots! Fontaine will see to your closed mouth if you don't do it yourself!" He rasped.

Rolling his eyes at these common, filthy looking men, Edward looked back down at the water, just in time to see the long, bronze submarine breaking the surface. He smiled to himself briefly - between his managing his own share of the paperwork and tenancy agreements back in Talos Tower, and Sheridan's meetings with both Anton Kinkaid and the Wales Brothers, they'd had little time to spend together over the last few weeks. As soon as Sheridan's trip out in the submarine with this Dr Tenenbaum was finished, they'd agreed to go for a drink at 'Le Temps Perdu', the first place they had enjoyed a drink openly as a couple after moving to Rapture.

The submarine hatch opened, and Dr Tenembaum was the first to emerge, followed by Charles Milton Porter. The german scientist had a huge smile, which was out of character for her, as she clutched something in her hands, something slimey wrapped in a towel. She looked over at the fisherman lazing around on a pile of storage crates.

"You, men. Fetch me a bucket of water immediately." She barked. The men looked across, and upon seeing who she was, hastily scattered.

"We ain't coming near you lady, we heard about you! Promising a blowie and giving a jab with a syringe instead!" They cried.

She waved off their comments with little care, and growled in aggravation. "Hyper sensitivity - a common issue I'm finding with grown men" She scurried over to the wharf and found a bucket by herself, scooping up some water from over the side of the dock, and threw in the towel-clad item she had been cradling.

"So Charles, do you think you can connect these up to your 'Thinker' easily enough?" Sheridan appeared from the submarine with Anton close behind. Charles Milton Porter was still watching Dr Tenenbaum with a grimace.

"Well... nothing about what we do is easy, Mr Fortesque, but I think we'll be able to manage it." He confirmed in his deep voice, still watching Dr Tenenbaum as she watched the object in her bucket closely. Sheridan and Anton walked up beside him, and followed his stare to the peculiar woman. As they, and Edward whom they had not yet reached, all watched, Brigid Tenebaum took out a small pocket knife from a pocket in her cardigan, and seemingly without any display of pain, cut deeply across her forefinger, releasing a steady flow of fresh blood. With a smile and air of anticipation, she thrust the finger into the bucket, and waited.

Edward broke the statue pose, and met with the three men from the submarine.

"Glad to see you all back safely. How did the submarine perform? Do you think she's ready for market?" He smiled, taking his place beside Sheridan and linking their arms. Anton looked to his feet, pretending not to notice so he wouldn't have to fake an indifferent reaction, in place of an awkward one.

"Very well, Mr Carson. We were both very pleased."

Suddenly, a tall, shadowy figure appeared from a doorway at the back of the wharf. Only his bald head caught the light of an overhead lamp.

"I'm glad to hear that, Mr Kinkaid. "Very glad". Anton moved forward straight away to meet the figure. "Frank! I hope you got see her surface. She handles beautifully. I guarantee when we give you the full demonstration next week, you'll place an order straight away for a fleet of these babies."

Frank Fontaine, the owner and operator of Fontaine Fisheries and most of Neptunes Bounty, then fully unveiled himself, stepping out into the light, puffing on a thick cigar. "If they help me increase my crew's catch, I'll have the unrivaled monopoly here in the Wharf at last." He took the cigar from his mouth.

"Just tell me Kinkaid, how big are the fuel tanks?"

As the Anton and Fontaine ventured down the pontoon to look at the Submarine, nobody noticed Dr Tenenbaum retract her finger from the bucket. She held it high, and upon seeing no remnant of the cut she had made in her own skin, she let out a giggle in delight.


	14. Chapter Fourteen

**Fortesque Penthouse - Mercury Suites**

Edward sat in the low armchair, looking out contently over the city. The cool greeney-blue glow of the ocean bathed his naked body. He cradled a glass of brandy in one hand that hung over the arm of the chair. Sheridan was still led in bed, his own nude figure partially covered by some of the rumpled sheets.

The silence hadn't been intentional by either of them, but had somehow descended, and both were trying to figure out how to start a suitable, post-coital conversation. That in itself led Sheridan to say something.

"Do you remember how outrageous it used to be, when we had to avoid getting caught? Now we can lay around our own apartment like this, completely free of any shame?" Sheridan wasn't sure if he was saying it was a good thing, or whether he was lamenting the loss of something that made their previous sexual exploits, and perhaps even their relationship, that bit more exciting.

"I do..." Edward replied. He could sense some form of disappointment in Sheridan's tone, even if he hadn't expressed it intentionally.

"It's good to have some time together again, we've both been so busy lately." He sipped his brandy.

"But that's good isn't it? Don't you enjoy being a businessman now? A _successful_ one at that?" Sheridan asked, sitting up.

"Of course I do. But many still look at me as a leech riding on your coat tails. I wouldn't mind that on its own, but I just miss us doing everything together. I thought as partners we'd work on each project together." Edward's eagerness to say this had been mounting for over a month. Ever since Sheridan had handed him responsibility for Talos Tower, and taken on his own new projects with Anton and that Tenenbaum woman, all of which had consumed him entirely.

Sheridan sat up straighter, and his face screwed up in annoyance. "I've given you massive influence and power over our interest Edward, a little gratitude would suit you better."

Edward was taken back by his sudden change in attitude, somehow angry.

"I am anything but ungrateful my love, you know that surely. But my our aim in coming to Rapture was foremost to be together, was it not?"

Sheridan shifted uncomfortably, and cleared his throat. "Of course it was. But now we have it, and we still come home to each other in the evening, but I have... I mean _we have_ such incredible opportunities down here, but not without incredible competition. I'm getting us into projects that are not only lucrative, but ground-breaking, of immeasurable importance for Rapture! For humanity!"

"You do come home to me yes, but frequently not until after you've had your doses of Cohen - christ knows why you are so taken with that idiots style... he's a freak."

"I just like to unwind, excuse me... I don't critisize you. And it was you who stopped coming with me, because like a spoilt child you didn't like him and weren't getting your way..." Sheridan raised his voice and threw off the blankets, slipping out of bed. "Someone from your background should be grateful to even sit in a theatre, let alone be so critical of the star on stage!"

Horrified by Sheridan's sudden rage, Edward rose out of his chair, and the two naked men faced each other in a defensive stance.

"So there it is... someone from my background. Everything you sold me about Rapture - that I wouldn't be judged for that, that I could leave it all behind, was bollocks. Even you still throw my poverty back in my face when it suits you!" Edward screamed suddenly at the end of his rant, and threw the brandy glass to the floor, smashing it. He span about and began to march towards the dressing room.

"Stop Edward, please...I..." Sheridan cut off, he'd been chasing after Edward when he trod on the broken glass, and lept back in sudden pain, lifting his leg into the air. "Fuck it!"

Edward turned back, but looked in sudden astonishment at the realisation.

"Sheridan... your limp!?" He gasped. "How can you even stand on that leg only?"

Sheridan's face dropped, and his cheeks grew a dark red. He slowly let his injured leg fall back to the floor, and letting out a sigh, walked over to his partner, placing his hands on both his shoulders.

"You are right. I am sorry - what I said was uncalled for. And I admit, I've been keeping a few too many secrets - but believe me, I had my reasons." He kissed Edwards cheek passionately.

"We agreed on having no secrets Sheridan." Edward still found it difficult to speak so boldly to his past master and employer, but if his new found financial independence and authority had helped him with anything, it was his confidence. "Now tell me what is going on. Let's get ourselves back to where we promised each other we'd be."

Sheridan lowered his head in submission. "Absolutely." He looked back up slightly, so he could look Edward straight in the eyes. "Get dressed... I'll show you everything. I'll show you how only this morning I cured my limp, and how soon, we'll be able to cure everything!"


	15. Chapter Fifteen

**Talos Tower**

Sheridan stood like a statue, his strong jaw jutted out in supressed anger, his eyes glued to the letter he held in his hand, gripping it so tightly he was almost crumpling it up entirely.

Edward was wandering around the small laboratory, shocked that this small scientific installation had evaded his attention. It was deep in the sub-basement levels of the building, yet he had been assured by both Sheridan and the estate agents that all rented premises were under his own supervision. The room was darker than most, and kitted out with some half-empty water tanks and some recently cleared shelving units.

"What was going on in here?" He asked, running a hand around the edge of one of the tanks, it's inside slimey and dirty. Something had been kept in it recently.

"That...bitch! That German, two-faced, deceitful bitch!" Sheridan threw the letter to the floor, and kicked a small stool over with his recently healed leg. His face red, he shot Edward a hideous glare.

"I gave her this laboratory gratis - free of charge. I bought her the equipment, the tanks..." the look of despair on Sheridans face was not something typical of him - he was always so confident. "I needed her - needed that research! I need it..."

Edward, letting go of his resentment of being kept in the dark for a moment, tried to put an arm around his upset lover - but was shoved away instantly. "Sheridan!" He snapped, hurt.

"This is not the time, I had the chance to invest in something ground breaking! But Fontaine, that slippery bastard, has pulled Tenenbaum out from under me, he's stolen it all... the slugs, the ADAM chemical..."

Edward sat himself down, fed up of being entirely oblivious to everything Sheridan was spouting. "Until you just come out with it all and tell me what you've been doing, this is pointless. What does any of this have to do with your leg?" He insisted.

Sheridan slipped down onto the floor, and rocked in frustration, cradling his head in his arms, exhaling deeply to control his rage.

"That thing Tenenbaum brought back - that we went out in the submarine to find all those weeks ago - it was a slug. A very... unique, type of slug indigenous it seems to this ocean trench. Apparently she'd seen the affects one of the little buggers had taken on a fisherman's paralyzed hand, and with my help she began to study them, gathering more and dissecting them. They secrete a chemical, with remarkable traits - amazing traits! It cured that fishermans paralysis - and as you've now seen, it cured my war-wound in my leg!"

"And we were funding her? Sorry - I should say, _you_ were funding her?" Edward jibed.

"I got carried away yes, I was so excited that I wanted to keep a little bit of it for myself, but only for a little while. I also didn't want to load too much onto you too soon my love, you've already evolved so far from the scared little boy I first met into a smart, astute businessman. And no, I didn't put any of our joint capital into this - because if it all was a mistake, if Tenenbaum was wrong about it all, I wouldn't have risked anything that was yours or ours."

Edward fell silent, and rocked his jaw from side to side, mulling over the explanation he'd been given. The claims Sheridan was making were all very fantastic - perhaps too fantastic for him to believe without seeing it for himself. But there was no denying something from all of this had healed a badly wounded leg.

"I can, thanks to your coaching, see the business benefits to marketing something that can heal wounds so quickly. I would have supported you in this - please don't screw me over again. Now, why has she gone?" Edward saw a small flash of relief in his partners face when he offered his understanding, but it was soon replaced by the returning hatred for Fontaine.

"In her letter, she thanks me for my help and initial investment, but says Fontaine has offere her a highly competitive salary package, and more funding. Greedy bitch!"

Edward sighed, and again put out a hand, to gently caress his lovers shoulder. "Well... this sounds funny coming from me, but going by everything you've taught me since we came down to Rapture - all Fontaine is guilty of here, is good business. As you would have done, he's seen something worth investing in, and made sure he was the highest bidder. We just need to move on from this - what was it, ADAM, and find something else in this fantastic city to invest in."

Sheridan wiped the sweat from his forehead. "That was the big one Eddie, that was what I'd come down here for."


	16. Chapter Sixteen

**Two years later**

**Kashmir Restaurant**

Simon Wales sat alone, looking down at his dinner plate, scraping a small piece of marinated fish repeatedly around the plate with his fork. He could feel the eyes of everyone in the restaurant fixed on him, whispering. He didn't know how Daniel could stand it - the subtle but blatant accusations, the whispers, the fingers of blame directed at them wherever they went - it just seemed to go over Daniel's head. But since Rapture's leaking had started, and the cities battalion of 'Big Daddy's as they had been nicknamed, and even McDonagh's men had failed to stem it all, Simon had been racked with a desperate feeling of utter failure. Andrew Ryan had chosen him - them, the internationally renowned Wales Brothers, to trust with his vision, and of course the safety of Rapture's citizens, when he had contracted them to design Rapture. He had been certain the structures were strong enough - yet now wherever he went, he would come across at least two buckets under the skylights in the ceilings, or one stretch of drenched carpet.

He'd tried to blame the new materials Ryan had crafted for the project, but the Ryanium and steel hadn't seemed to be the parts of the buildings giving way - it seemed to be where the Wales Brother's had elected to use Aluminium. Daniel hadn't been keen on using a newer, less tested metal, but Ryan had expressed concerns that large quantities of Steel may attract unnecessary attention from the Government, and Simon had snatched the opportunity to increase his standing in Andrew Ryan's eyes by suggesting Aluminium. His recklessness, his fault, had led to Rapture's increasing leaking, and everyone knew it.

"Simon. I'm sorry to disturb your meal..." that beautiful, soft voice broke his brooding. He knew who stood beside his table, and looked up with a smile. Dr Sofia Lamb smiled back at him pleasantly, without prejudice.

"Oh my good Doctor, Dr Lamb! You are anything but a disturbance. Please won't you sit with me?" He rose up to pull out a seat, but she nodded in thanks and slid her own chair out from under the table.

"I trust you won't mind my friend joining us - she is a bit short for worthwhile company at the moment, as I think both you and I are." She gestured her arm outwards, and the old lady waiting a few steps behind Dr Lamb came forward, nervously clutching her purse with both hands. "Simon Wales, please meet Amelia Ambrose."

Amelia looked cautiously at Simon Wales - she knew he had been part of her son's project in aquiring that tower of his in the city center, and almost instantly wondered if he too was a homosexual, if he had been so willing to do business with another one.

"My Lady - I know of you of course. Lady Fortesque, Sheridan's mother." He respectfully lowered his head and gently bowed. He felt a twinge of jealousy in his chest, that Dr Lamb was so friendly with this woman. Since he had started seeing Dr Lamb for counseling, he had been quite taken with her, and was a frequent, keen bidder for her personal time, attention and approval.

"No Simon..." Dr Lamb calmly but firmly pushed him back upright with a hand to his shoulder. "Amelia has decided to shed such a ludicrous title. It serves only to build a wall between her and others. If people like us are to reach out and help others see the world for how it should be, we can't have class sticking its nose in." She smiled proudly as she looked her friend Amelia up and down, as a farmer would who had successfully trained a new sheep dog.

The two women sat down together at Simon Wales' table, and he poured them both a glass of Arcadia Merlot, a Worley Winery 1946 vintage - Rapture's first vintage in fact. "I've worked with Sheridan quite a bit, Lady... I mean, Mrs...Fortesque. You have a charming son." He smiled politely. His manners were getting the better of him in front of Dr Lamb, as he really would have wanted to interrogate this woman on how she had permitted her child to grow into a decadent, a pervert who was so publicly proud of the fact.

Amelia made it much easier for him. "I don't wish to discuss my son. We are not close these days - he dragged me down to Rapture against my will, and then shamed me and his ancestry by allowing himself to be corrupted by the cities 'modern values' - so called." Her face screwed up in disgust as she said the words.

"Merely values of of self interest, Amelia. His 'affliction' we can of course forgive, you love your son enough to do that I'm sure. But his lifestyle is undoubtedly self-indulgent, and it ignores his essential role in the interest of the greater good - bearing children, progressing humanity. Turning his back on his duty to the people of this city, that is what we cannot forgive." Dr Lamb began to explain.

Amelia was still learning to take in and process Dr Lamb's views on society, but Simon Wales was nodding intently, hanging on her every word. "Simon here, for example." She waved her hand towards him. "He feels guilt, profound guilt over something he considers to be a failure in his duty to the people of Rapture. This makes it so easy to forgive him, and help him move forwards, because he acknowledges his failings and his guilt. He understands what it will take to be... reborn."

Simon's eyes grew wide as she said those words, and finally dropped the fork he had been subconsciously playing with. "Oh I do, Dr Lamb. I've already been telling people about my experiences in our therapy sessions, about how you can redeem the corruption and wickedness that seems to be inherent in Rapture."

"And we will need somewhere to express ourselves freely, a sanctuary where people can come and discover a better way - the true way to building Utopia that Andrew Ryan could never understand." She reached out and took Simon's hand as she said it, gripping it tightly with affection. She then turned to Amelia.

"However, we will need help in that regard. Help from someone... like your son and his lover." Dr Lamb expressed a fake sense of sudden revelation, masking the constant calculations and planning that were running through her mind with more vigor and intensity than anything 'The Thinker' could handle down in Minerva's Den.

"Sheridan? and... that boy?" Amelia stuttered, in surprise and hesitation.

"Indeed. It would be the lesser of two evils, rather than trying to secure investment from one of Ryan's inner circle, and be sure Amelia, I would use such an association to make every effort to save Sheridan from himself."


	17. Chapter Seventeen

**Fort Frolic - Upper Promenade.**

Sheridan was weaving already from side to side. It was only subtle, but Edward could feel the pulling of his lover's dizziness as they walked past Pharaoh's Fortune.

"How much of the Red Ribbon did you drink before you left the office? I was keeping that for the meeting with Steve Barker you know. The more brandy I could get down his neck, the higher percentage of takings from the Footlights Theatre I could try and get out of him. You basically threw that last loan at him without any sort of negotiating..."

Sheridan swore under his breath. "Oh just listen to the Great Gatsby here would you..." He coughed slightly, and snatched his hand from around Edwards waist. "So whats the deal, I tell you everything about business dealings, then you teach it all right back to me as though I'm an infant?!" He growled, the alcohol slurring his words slightly. "I only had a few glasses anyway, plenty for you to drown old Barker with."

Sheridan's drinking had slowly been getting worse, ever since he'd been screwed over by Tenenbaum and Fontaine a few years back. It had only increased when they'd secured a lucrative franchise deal with Dr Steinman, who was using the incredible healing powers of Adam in his cosmetic procedures. Edward also suspected, that his personal advances in building up their joint business interests, was causing some mild jealousy from his partner - which was of course ridiculous, for a multi-millionaire to be jealous of a 'jumped-up valet' as Sheridan had put it in a drunken slur last week.

"You only gave Barker that loan, which you know you'll never get back, because you're trying to impress his biggest act - bloody Sander Cohen." Edward rolled his eyes as he said the name. That was where they were off to again tonight. After their earlier fight, Sheridan had promised to join Edward out for a quite meal and an intimate evening together, if Edward would meet him half way and accompany him - and at least _try_ to enjoy Cohen's show in 'Fleet Hall'.

The couple fell into a tolerant silence, and carried on. They soon came to pass Eve's Garden, the latest, controversial establishment to open in Rapture. The huge red apple and three purple X's illuminated that whole section of the promenade. As people walked in and out, opening the doors, a bustling room was revealed, full of men from all walks of life, some still in fishing gear, others suited and booted from the office, even some maintenance guys from Hephaestus, were all huddled around the dance tables, lustfully learing over the girls swinging around the poles. Just before the doors closed again - Edward caught sight of a face that was awfully familiar, one of the dancing girls, clad only in suspenders and tights. It was only a fleeting glance, and the girl had been heavily made-up with powders and lipstick, but she had stared right back at him with the same level of recognition. He felt a punch to his gut as the face finally clicked - Emily. He had been so excited back when Sheridan had reported her fiery resignation from Lady Amelia's employ, a few short days after his encouraging her to seek out her own sort of enterprise and crafting of her own destiny. But she had dropped completely off the map after that, despite a few attempts to find her he'd made throughout the following week.

How on earth could she have chosen to put herself up for sale? That meek, shy little girl - how had she been able to strip naked and parade in front of that jeering crowd, when before she'd blushed at the sight of Edwards smile. He shook his head in disbelief, and for a moment, felt shame in his thousand-dollar suit.

In silence, Edward and Sheridan passed through into the Fort Frolic Atrium, and climbed the staircase to Fleet Hall, going through to take Sheridan's usual private Box. The bellboy opened the door for them with his set of brass keys, and welcomed them in. Sheridan slumped straight down into his seat, and perked up for the first time that evening as he gazed longingly at the stage. He had been so over-excited in fact, that Edwards was instead the one to notice the small envelope left on the wall in front of them.

The envelope was made of high quality, antique styled paper, and sealed with a wax stamp - SC. It was addressed ''To my admiring Patron - the biscuit in Box 5"

"My love - I'm guessing this is for you..." Edward begrudgingly handed it to his intoxicated companion, who then sat straight up in his seat and fondled at the wax seal with shaking fingers, as he had done once as Edwards belt buckle... many years ago now it felt...

"On my god! Oh my love!... Edward!" He threw out his hand and took Edwards in a tight grip. "We are cordially invited to an exclusive, after-show party at his club on High Street!"

Edward smiled back. "Wonderful." He could have tried fighting for his promised quiet evening together, but he knew he would loose.


	18. Chapter Eighteen

**High Street - COHEN**

The white was blinding. The marble walls shone bright enough that both Sheridan and Edward had to squint at first as they walked down the bleak, clinical corridor. "How overpowering! How utterly...contemporary..." Sheridan gasped, obviously impressed.

Edward was only impressed that the excitement of this late night rendevouz had lifted his lover's spirits and affections.

Reaching the lone steward at the end of the room, they waited to be granted entry further. Edward could feel the steward eyeing them both up carefully, even from behind that ridiculous rabbit mask he was wearing - there seemed to be a recurring rabbit theme in alot of Cohen's art, it was almost his signature theme. The steward didn't relent, not for a moment, and subtly began to swing on his heels, thrusting himself in and out suggestively - showing to the pair perhaps what was on offer if they made the correct advances.

Edward knew that had to be the case - that Cohen was afterall, as much of a poof as they, except this eccentric fellow had surrounded himself with those he could encourage, perhaps even exploit given time. The idea that Rapture had such a developing community both aroused Edward's curiosity, but also his concern. Such movements had the power to either advance or condemn men such as him.

Finally, the second door swung open, and the couple were then transferred from the brilliant white light, into complete darkness. The door slammed shut behind them. Sheridan snatched Edwards arm in alarm "Good God..." he jumped at the slamming of the door.

It was a terrifying moment, that left them feeling as vulnerable as possible. As if to offer redemption and salvation, Cohen's rabbit symbol then illuminated before them, a shining archway beckoning them to pass under it. As they did so, Edward reached outwards, the darkness had such a sense of depth and endlessness, he wanted to convince himself there even were walls either side at all...

A second rabbit arch lit up ahead as soon as they'd passed the first, and then beyond the second, a third rabbit arch opened, that finally led out into an atrium that at least resembled the typical decor or Rapture. That was the last dose of normal they would receive for some time. As soon as through the archway, Sheridan coo'd in delighted amusement at the two huge faces that looked down from above - both Cohen's face of course, projected onto large sculptures. Considering this was supposed to be a party, the entire chamber was eerily quite, with only a few voices coming from further in. They found themselves to be standing on the uppermost level of the atrium, with only a single winding staircase to follow that descended down into Cohens pit.

"Come my love, let's join the fun!" Sheridan pulled him sharply down the stairs.

"Why do you think he invited you? His note did't say". Edward asked, catching his breath between words as he was virtually dragged down the steps.

Before Sheridan could come up with a theory with which to answer, they reached the lowest level. The lighting was subdued, and thick red drapes hung between a circle of pillars, that surrounded what looked like some sort of pool, with a glass bottom that looked out into the ocean beneath. Many of the young men and women that had been cast in the show earlier that evening, were now sitting in or beside this pool, some barely dressed, others nude entirely! They all seemed to be moving and talking in slow motion - it was relaxing to watch, but suggested alcohol, or even drug use to Edward. Sander's famous composition, named none other than 'Cohens Masterpiece' of course, played from above. As some of the young men and women progressed into the early stages of copulation, Cohen himself stood among them, out of the water on a raised platform. His wild, maniacal eyes jumped between watching the unfolding scene before him, and a giant canvas in front of him, upon which he was enthusiastically painting. He was, to Edwards relief, fully clothed, still in the glittery tuxedo he'd worn to take his bows on stage after the show.

"Dirty old voyeur!" Edward chuckled in a whisper, to which Sheridan sharply 'shushed' him. "Let's go and introduce ourselves." He whispered back. Awkwardly, they circled the room, maintaining a respectable distance from the pool. Even at such a distance, they still had to navigate some of Cohen's more recognizable apprentices, who were relaxing in bath tubs, lit by candles and accompanied by other young men who were engaging them in quiet conversation.

"That's Fitzpatrick... I recognise him. He's been with Cohen since before Rapture! Came down here with him..." Sheridan pointed to one of the young men. His voice almost excited, if not aroused by the spectacle. Edward wanted to be angry with his partner, for even looking at this carnal scene, yet that would have meant his taking the high ground - and even he was allured by it all, to his own shame.

Finally, an excuse came to pull away from it all - they reached Sander Cohen himself. Up closer, he really was an unpleasant sight. Even more so than Edward had first thought that first night in Fleet Hall, Cohen was showing obvious signs of age, with tired skin clumsily hidden under face powder, sunken eyes disguised with vibrant-coloured eye-shadow, and thinning hair slicked back over the balding area.

"Who is it?" He angrily screamed as he was interrupted from his painting, but he immediately calmed to a smile and a soft tone, as his bulging, greedy eyes fixed on the two men before him. "Oh yes...yes... we've been waiting for you!" He ran up to Sheridan, and completely blanked Edward. "I've seen you so often, you enjoy my music, my shows... I've seen the pleasure I give you... which I assure you, I would make my mission in life to continue doing...!" He flirted horrendously, his face practically in Sheridan's. In return, Sheridan thankfully still had enough of his British manners in tact to politely offer a handshake, and cleared his throat.

"Sheridan Fortesque Mr Cohen, I'm so thrilled to finally make your acquaintance!" Cohen stepped back slightly, "Yes, of course you are. There are few like me... like us, in this sunken city." He grinned. He gave Edward a slight look, but that turned his silly smile to a stern, dramatic scowl, as though someone had offended his nostrils with a rotten odour.

"Oh sorry Mr Cohen, this is my partner - Edward." Sheridan took Edwards hand in pride - something he hadn't done in a number of months. Looking back at Sheridan, granting Edward no attention at all, Cohen replied. "The valet, I know of him, yes indeed."

"He isn't a valet, at least not anymore - he's my partner in business as well, owns half of everything."

"You know I can speak for myself, please refrain from discussing me as if I wasn't in the room." Edward couldn't control the outburst, but managed to in part hide his anger with a chuckle at the end.

Cohen was still unimpressed, and looking into Edward's eyes directly with a vicious face, hissed "Bully for you, little moth."


	19. Chapter Nineteen

**Olympus Heights**

The tram shuddered, and a small bell signaled its departure, as it rolled away from the platform towards Mercury Suites. At this time of night, or rather the morning, they were the only two aboard, sat huddled together closer than they'd been in quite some time. Both wore expressions of disbelief and shock, neither had spoken since falling out the back door of 'Cohens' drunk and even possibly drugged. Their suits were ruffled and buttoned incorrectly, their hair wet and messy. Neither could fathom how he had done it, how Cohen had coerced them into doing what they did. The whole scene had been so friendly, the atmosphere full of such fun and frolic - yet buried beneath all that, there had been something melancholy, intimidating and sinister. Cohen had stood on his platform and captured the scene on his canvas, as his 'disciples' as he'd addressed them, had risen from the pool around him, and somehow intoxicated both the men with drink and exotic foods laced with all manner of herbs. In the few comprehend-able flashes that either man could recall, they had been performing the most private of acts upon each other, on others at times also, all the while under Sander Cohen's frightening gaze.

Sheridan sat in desperate shame. The guilt hung heavy around his neck - guilt not only over allowing both he and his beloved to be pulled into such a scene, but this event had opened the flood gates and for the first time, he was acknowledging how terribly he had been treating Edward lately. Had he now let it go so far that something like this could end it all? A grown man, a respectable man, was now sat in shock, close to tears in fear that he was about to be looked upon with hatred by his lover and left alone. He'd disguised his jealousy and depression towards Fontaine's and Tenenbaum as jealousy towards Edwards mounting business success, simply because it had been easier, but he feared now the price for the easier route would be too high.

Edward watched his feet as he shuffled them across the floor of the tram. He knew that he wanted to be angry, and that he wanted to take it out on Sheridan, to use this incident to get recompense for the last few months of Sheridan's being a completely intolerable arsehole. Yet he wasn't angry. He was ashamed to confess he had enjoyed the act itself. He still loathed Cohen with a passion, and hated that such an unstable maniac had somehow gained influence over two grown men, but the whole thing had in a round a bout way, brought his Sheridan back to him. They hadn't made love with such untamed passion in over a year or two, and despite the awkward atmosphere, this was the closest they had sat together in almost as long.

"I guess I'd best break the ice my darling, but I don't really know what to say."

"I hate Cohen. I'll start with that." Edward didn't want to give Sheridan too much of an easy ride, even though he he was sure he was ready to forgive him.

"I know, and I'm sorry for getting to embroiled with him. I just got mesmerized by his artwork, his music - it helped me escape my thriving hatred of Fontaine, and this strange rut I seemed to get myself stuck in. I'm sorry I've been taking it all out on you... I had no idea it would lead us both to something like this..."

Edward sighed. "I don't know what happened, but I do know neither of us were really in control tonight. That means Cohen is dangerous, if he can control two grown men like that, influence them so totally."

"So..you don't hold it against me?" Sheridan paused, waiting for the verdict desperately.

"Not tonight, no I don't. But you're sulking and behaviour has been damaging 'us', and not only us, but it's suffocating the business interests we intended to aquire down here. I have learnt alot, but am still nowhere near the great business mind you are. I can only manage so much without you..."

Sheridan laid his head down on Edwards shoulder, a powerfully submissive gesture for him. "I'm so sorry my love. We'll start again now, I promise you. We'll get back to our original Rapture dream."

As the two men wondered up through Mercury Suites, taking the elevator up to their floor and moving along the balcony, they were unaware their earlier host had arrived home before they had. Sander Cohen stood beside his own front door, concealed by the night-time subdued lighting. He grinned to himself, watching closely, watching Edward closely, as they went through their own front door. He turned back inside, met by the line-up of Kyle Fitzpatrick, Martin Finnegan, Silas Cobb and Hector Rodriguez, who awaited their master.


	20. Chapter Twenty

**One Month Later**

**Talos Tower - The Offices of Lord Sheridan Fortesque and Edward Carson**

Both Sheridan and Edward were up bright and early that day, they were meeting with Anton Kinkaid later for lunch, to go through the interior designs for their next season's releases of personalised Bathysphere's. Much because of Sheridan's spout of drinking and loss of interest, Kinkaid had taken a step away from the couple lately, and become very distant. He had been making larger and larger decisions without first consulting Sheridan, and one of his first moves in his 'rehabilitation' was to get that relationship back on track too - and re-establish his stake in the Austen Bathysphere company. Until then, they had much to do.

Charles Milton Porter sat with Edward, ahead of the later meeting with Kinkaid they were discussing the issues brought up from Porter's team regarding the Thinker's link to Bathysphere's travelling too close to larger buildings, where the metallic structures were blocking vital transmissions.

Sheridan had been going through the latest financial forecasts in the Rapture Tribune. Suddenly, his intense focus was interrupted by his buzzer, and from the room beyond, his secretary called through. "Sir, somebody to see you." her Czech accent coming through.

"I'm sorry Mariska, I can't see anyone without an appointment today, my diary is booked up as you know..." He had told her this twice already today, and was trying not to let his irritation show with her lack of attention.

"I know sir, but its your mother, Lady Amelia.." She continued. "Just...Amelia." Another voice, further from the microphone than Mariska, could be heard through the intercom, correcting his secretary.

Sheridan looked up in surprise in time to meet Edwards equally impressed face. "Good lord... your mother?" He asked, quickly then begging Porter's forgiveness for straying from their conversation. Sheridan momentarily looked up through the skylight deep into the ocean, and wondered how on earth to welcome her after almost a year of barely any contact? "Very well, of course please let her in."

Down the far end of the hall, the double doors opened, and in the considerable distance from his desk, Sheridan saw the unmistakeable figure of his mother appear, followed by a blonde companion whom he was unacquainted with. He rose from his chair and ran around to the small foyer to meet her. Smiling, he exclaimed, "Oh mother! I'm so happy you've come here - it means a lot to me."

She came to stop a few feet from him, and whilst not frowning as she would once, she still stood observing him for a moment, more as if trying to read him than disapprove of him. Her friend, the tall lanky blonde, seemed equally as inquisitive. At separate intervals, both gave Edward the slightest but most intentional of glances.

"Sheridan, I will begin by admitting I'm impressed. You have done well son, this building is wonderful. I've already been to see the public areas and the shopping floors, it is a great achievement." She surrendered her admiration at last!

"But what about you? What have you been doing? Whenever I have tried to come by your penthouse you aren't there?" He asked. She very quickly looked towards her companion, as if choosing whether to answer the question honestly. "Keeping myself busy, with things worthwhile." was her cryptic response. To his astonishment, she then turned to Edward, seeing straight through Charles Milton Porter, and offered a civil nod. "Hello Edward, I hope you are keeping well."

Edward was lost for words, and realized he had forgotten his manners when he let his jaw drop. "Very well, thank you your Ladyship."

"Just...Amelia, these days" The blonde companion beside her quickly interrupted, the interjection sharp and hostile, yet followed quickly by a charming smile and an outstretched hand. Sheridan could have sworn he saw her gently nudge his mother into introducing her.

"I'm sorry how very rude of me - Sheridan this is my very good friend Dr Sofia Lamb.

On eye raised up high in curiosity, Sheridan accepted her hand shake, but enquired, "Why not her Ladyship? It is her title and there is no reason she should not use it?" He asked, sensing something here was slightly off colour.

Amelia herself moved to answer, but was quickly beaten to it. "She was just telling me how she felt it was a useless effort down here in Rapture - the english class system carries no merit down here, so why keep up with the title?" All Amelia could do was quickly nod in agreement with the words that had just been put in her mouth.

Sheridan could hardly believe what he was hearing - his mother, _Lady_ Amelia had always been a strict advocate of upholding the aristocracy and the family titles. Who on earth was this Dr Lamb, and what had she done to his mother?

"Dr Lamb wishes to discuss something with you, as do I as potentially a part investor." Amelia managed to speak a whole sentence for herself...

"Investor? You've come here to discuss an investment?" Sheridan asked, the disappointment already settling in that this wasn't simply down to her wanting to forget the past and bond with her son again. Dr Lamb walked forward with an abundance of confidence, and circled Sheridan to then sit in a chair looking towards his desk.

"Come, Mr Fortesque, shall we begin?" As the three sat at his desk, Edward across the room offered his further apologies to Porter, and asked if he would mind meeting again in the afternoon. Porter let out a deep laugh, "All too happy to. I know of Dr Lamb... quite the character. Looks like you have your hands quite full to me..." still chuckling, he let himself out.

Sheridan gestured over for Edward to join them, without asking permission of either Amelia or Dr Lamb.

Both women watched Edwards every move as he carried a chair across to sit beside Sheridan, the two of them elegantly positioned as if in a portrait, with the deep oceanic seascape behind them through the huge glass window.

"I have a wish to purchase a substantial property in Rapture, and your mother has told me that you are in the business of seeking out worthwhile investment - a venture capitalist, have I understood correctly?" Dr Lamb began. He nodded earnestly.

"Well, whilst my considerable career treating the human psyche has not left me without considerable means, it would still be beyond my current standing in Rapture to be able to acquire an entire property on my own, at least one of the scale I wish to purchase." She explained.

' _You're snotty, but your broke, I get it lady.'_ Sheridan thought to himself, trying not to smile. "A substantial property of considerable scale? May I ask what it is you are looking for exactly? What is it you want to do with this property?"

"A park, Mr Fortesque." He waved a dismissive hand, "Sheridan, please, in-formalities for a friend of my mother." He looked to Amelia for a sign of gratitude, but she was looking obsessively at Dr Lamb, as if the simple words pouring from her were the words of God himself.

"Sheridan... a park, a place for my friends and clients to come and relax, appreciate all forms of art and and share ideals."

"you feel Rapture is short of places for freedom of artistic expression or places to get pampered?" Edward asked, almost sarcastically.

"Certainly not." Dr Lamb answered, but still looking towards Sheridan. "But I intend to build something that will rival Fort Frolic, except with a higher level of finesse, higher ideals with less of a focus on self indulgence, but more on the combined talents of the people of Rapture, the appreciation of genius, rather than showcasing one's own." Her eyes glazed over slightly as she pictured this vision in her mind. Looking back down at him, she smiled. "It will be beautiful, a window to Utopia, Sheridan. Will you help me realize it? Help me to make Dionysus Park a reality, share my vision, and I can guarantee it will yield whatever financial recompense you ask for. Although I anticipate you'll reap more than financial gain once you see the end result"

Sheridan leaned back in his chair, and looked to Edward at his side, who looked less than convinced. He looked at his mother, who had finally looked back at him, albeit longingly and desperate for him to help this Dr Lamb. He looked finally back at Dr Lamb, whose face was as motionless as a sculpture, held entirely blank. On the surface, she seemed to confident and certain of everything, but still something beneath it all felt so desperate.


	21. Chapter Twenty-One

**El Dorado Lounge - Ryan Amusements**

Anton Kinkaid has just left, taking the blueprints and artists mock-ups for the new Bathysphere's rolled up under his arm. Behind the charming atmosphere of the cosy lounge and the music on stage, lunch for Sheridan, Edward and Anton had not been pleasant. Anton had maintained this new distance he was keeping from them, and he had not reacted very positively to Sheridan's refreshed approach to putting his own opinions across and asserting some authority. What had been more disappointing, was Anton's mysterious reluctance for further expansion of the Rapture Metro system, and his new designs were extremely disappointing, incorporating no updated features or technology, in fact some designs seemed to have some features removed - despite the fact the Austen Bathysphere's bank balance had never been so healthy and ready to support some risky advances.

The singer on stage, a curvaceous blonde named 'Jasmine Jolene', who was reputedly trying to ferociously expand her horizons to singing beyond her current show-girl routine in Eve's Garden, bowed to a round of half-hearted applause, before moving on to sing 'Tonight for Sure!'.

"I'm concerned about Anton, something is going on. He is holding back on his designs, for something else." Sheridan spat with irritation. "But how do I react - if I threaten him with my retraction of funding, he could easily fall back on the company's savings for at least a year or two - plenty of time to find another investor - if he hasn't already. But if I do nothing, I'm just sat waiting to be punched in the face again, like I was by that german bitch Tenenbaum."

"I'm not sure what to suggest, but best we take some time to think it over. Let's discuss it properly this afternoon - Porter is coming back over later, and he's a straight arrow. If he knows of anything going on with Kinkaid and the Bathysphere designs that he thinks is underhand, I'll be able to get it out of him." Edward winked, packing up his own satchel and finishing off the last bite of his salmon cheesecake. "And of course, we need to look at the financial prospects of helping that Dr Lamb woman - she has all the right patter, but we barely know anything about her other than her psychiatric reputation - who says she knows anything about setting up and operating a massive entertainment district as this 'Dionysus Park'."

Sheridan nodded in agreement, "This afternoon then. I'll make sure we get some digging done on Dr Lamb, might pay that Booker Dewitt chap a visit and see if he can do some sniffing around for us. God knows the man looks like he could use some legitimate investigation work. You can see about probing Porter for what he knows about Kinkaid and _our_ Bathysphere's."

Edward leant over the table and gave Sheridan a gentle peck on the cheek, before leaving.

Sheridan put his elbows down on the table, and now alone to let out a little of his anxiety and doubt, held his face in his hands. He was sat on one of the fattest fortunes in all of Rapture, and had so far played everything straight - yet people in this city seemed all too keen to screw him over without any prior warning or chance for him to outbid his competitors. Only this Dionysus Park project seemed to appear straight forward, and yet even before he'd given it any in-depth thought, he just didn't like the vibes he was getting off Dr Lamb, especially seeing how she was manipulating his mother.

"Waiter" he called out to the tall, skinny man across the room at the bar - "I'm out of ice in my scotch - could you run me some over?" The slim waiter smiled creepily at Sheridan, before vanishing entirely into thin air, leaving only a few faint whisps of matter and a red haze in the air! Sheridam leapt back in his seat, pressing his back deep into the cushioned sofa, his wide eyes searching around the room for the waiter - before the man reappeared like an exploding firework right beside the table! "What the fucking hell? What was that?" Sheridan screamed aloud. Several other patrons of the El Dorado Lounge had witnessed the event, and were all equally stunned, watching the waiter as he leant across to Sheridan's whiskey glass.

He winked in excitement, and held a hand above the glass. He clicked his fingers, and from a cloud circling his fingertip,s three rough chunks of ice materialized and dropped into the whiskey. Sheridan stared at the ice in awe, before looking up at the waiter, who had a prideful smiled and was giggling - exhilarated by the reaction he had merited.

"Answer me man, for fucks sake - what is that?"

The waiter stood back up straight, draping his cloth neatly over his arm. "Sir - a trial product I'm being commissioned to test in the workplace. I must say - the practicalities for a waiter are endless! But I can't help but let my imagination run riot with the other possibilities!"

Sheridan sat silent as his mind worked, until something infuriating clicked. "Commissioned - you mean your a test subject."

"Well - if you say so sir. But it's well paid, and on a waiters wage in Rapture I couldn't turn it down! Buddy of mine that works maintenance over at Fontaine Futuristics put a good word in for me. That, and I think Fontaine personally relished the idea of an employee at a Ryan-owned business showing off his new products!"

Sheridan slammed a clenched fist onto the table. "So THAT is what his Futuristics place is about, they've figured out how to harness the ADAM and channel its effects." He glared up at startled waiter. "Tell me, it was Tenenbaum that did this to you wasn't it - stuck-up German bitch without a personality?"

The waiter chuckled. "That's her. At least, she oversaw the initial injections. Word is they started out with some horrific ways of getting this ADAM stuff into your system, but I was one of the first to merely have this liquid form injected." He held up his wrist where he still bore the injection mark with pride. "If this stuff takes off, and goes on public sale, I bet it will revolutionise the city, and old muggins here will have been at the forefront of it all!"

Sheridan frowned and clenched his fists. "Lucky you... Lucky Tenenbaum... Lucky fucking Fontaine..."


	22. Chapter Twenty-Two

**Ryan Amusements**

Edward had just crossed through the tunnels from the El Dorado Lounge, and was moving swiftly through the Memorial Museum towards the Atlantic Express station. Flocks of children tailed by their parents moved from each exhibit to the next, discovering the stages of Rapture's conception and construction, always cheering when they reached the final one displaying their completed city in all of its glory. Edward smiled, and remembered visiting here for the first time. He'd seen much of Raptures construction for himself, having been on the first shipment of citizens to arrive, however he'd been fascinated to learn about the laying of the foundations and how they'd first started out with nothing more than a few submerged domes and corridors. He was pleased the children were being taught to appreciate just how special Rapture was.

To avoid getting trampled underfoot as the children began running towards the 'Journey to the Surface' ride, Edward took the route to his right. As he passed "Hall of the future", he came across a familiar face. Dr Sofia Lamb stood alone, disapprovingly muttering to herself as she gazed upon the diorama exhibit depicting Andrew Ryan choosing Rapture's location from the bow of his steamship.

"Good afternoon, Dr Lamb." He smiled pleasently and intended to continue on his way, when she turned and made direct eye contact, almost catching him a trance. She smiled so intensley that it stopped him in his tracks.

"Good Afternoon, Mr Carson. I would ask if you were enjoying the museum, but I'm certain a man as astute as yourself wouldn't be taken in by such lies." She looked back at the exhibit. Edward quickly began to think of a polite but short reply to escape the encounter, but had no chance before she continued. "I helped Andrew Ryan design this place - it was supposed to represent the true hazards of the outside world, to inspire children to embrace our community and Rapture's people. But that man has twisted it into a shrine to himself - it would be better suited to be called the Andrew Ryan story - a testament also to the fact that its all fiction. Take this diorama for example - our children will grow up thinking the man experienced some divine influence and really did just point over the bow of his boat at any old place to build this city. Poor Carlson Fiddle had researchers dredge up every piece of research, mapping and survey that was used to choose a suitable location to build this city - all for nothing so that Ryan could deify himself instead. When he says there are no 'Gods' allowed in Rapture, I often think he really means no _other_ Gods."

Edward politely coughed and smiled. "Indeed, Doctor. Perhaps it is all slightly over the top, but I suppose an Amusement Park has to add some dramatic effect to engage the youngsters." He made it a few steps forward.

"Well, _Dionysus Park_ won't have to rely on lies." She resentfully growled.

"No disrespect, Dr Lamb, but can art itself not a lie? Fictional creations and creations?" Dr Lamb carefully contemplated her response.

"It can be, but my park will feature art from people that use the medium to showcase the human condition, to interpret thruth, and to demonstrate what could be... That is of course, should you and your partner elect to finance us of course." Her eyes narrowed behind her spectacles.

"We are certainly giving it the time and consideration such a proposal deserves, Dr Lamb. You have my word."

"It would please Sheridans mother a great deal, perhaps even mend some of the burnt bridges between them." She suggested.

"If we decide to finance Dionysus Park, it will be based purely on the projects ability to pay for itself, with interest. Lady Amelia has..."

"Amelia..." She practically shrieked...

"oh yes, Amelia... well she has always possessed the ability to re-kindle her relationship with Sheridan and me, nobody has ever stood in the way of it. But she would need to do that off her own back for it to work, not just so she can get something out of it."

Dr Lamb blankly stared. She looked like a school teacher who had just figured out the trouble maker in a new class - the one who would be downtrodden soon if they weren't to be a thorn in her side for the foreseeable future.

"Whatever you decide, just be sure to have your ethics in check, Mr Carson. Future generations of this great city will look back on what people like you chose to do when crossroads were met in developing its fate. Choose whose wagon you get on with caution, I implore you." She then finally broke off their interaction and moved away.

Edward shook his head to himself, 'Kinkaid, Lamb... why does everyone seem have a devious agenda all of a sudden?' he wondered. 'Is Rapture not brilliant enough for these people? The opportunities for whatever they want do abundant enough?' He sighed and moved on towards the Express station. 'Give a mouse a cookie, he's going to want a glass of milk I suppose...'

A figure watched Edward as he crossed the entrance hall passed the big clock tower. The figure was concealed by the cool blue light pouring through the large windows, so to Edward they were indistinguishable from all others silhouetted by it. He glared, and spoke to one of his disciples beside him. "This one torments me, he is not worthy of my genius, yet he allures me... a moth among the butterflies."


	23. Chapter Twenty-Three

**Heaphestus - Rapture Central Control - Office of Andrew Ryan**

"How long until he open's its doors?" Andrew Ryan leant back in his office chair, looking up from the blueprints for the new structure at their designer, Daniel Wales.

"The central department store building is powered and fitted out already. The Housewares building is about a week away, and the third building is just the bare bones with minimal power. Fontaine plans to open the first two, and then gauge the market before designating the space within the third tower." Daniel Wales described, pointing to each building on the blueprints he'd provided, and offered for Andrew Ryan to keep in his office.

The great man, builder and founder of Rapture Andrew Ryan, was troubled. This new building was truly impressive, and sure to be a benchmark in the standard of construction going forward. What troubled him however, was that this was the embodiment of what Ryan had encouraged people to work towards in Rapture, industry and progress, and yet now that somebody was excelling in business almost as well as he, he could feel himself turning on his own kind. This Fontaine was getting too close to his level of influence for comfort. Free enterprise was ideal, as long as Andrew Ryan was always at the top of the food chain.

"He wouldn't let us install an Atlantic Express route - he was quite specific about that." Daniel added, curiously. "But he's installed a whole row of Bathysphere stations in the Housewares building for some reason. He did purchase a bulk load of large generators, demanding that the building be able to sustain itself should Rapture experience any power supply issues."

"More likely so that he can get out of paying me to supply it." Andrew sniffed. He rolled up the blueprints, and slid them into a locked drawer in his desk. "Thank you Daniel. I appreciate your assistance in this confidential matter, despite recent... difficulties between us." He carefully worded his way of bringing up Ryan Industries termination of the construction franchise given to the Wales Brothers.

"It wasn't only Ryan Industries that cut ties with us after the leaking started, it was everyone. We've managed to keep up some maintenance contracts with some of our more financially-constrained clients, and since figuring out how to stem some of the leaks, we managed to land this contract with Fontaine - it was purely by luck that we were still the builders with the most raw materials, but we hope the Fontaine Department Store will start to restore confidence in our designs." Daniel tried to show some confidence, but the wear and loose threads in his suit told a story of greater ruin and financial woe than the brothers were letting on.

"Then I'm glad I was able to send a little more money your way for your trouble in keeping me informed on the building. Thank you again. Tell me, out of curiosity - that building you put up on the outskirts to the east, did you ever manage to resolve that problem with the pumps you told me about?"

Daniel Wales looked at Ryan with contempt, as if the great man had brought this up just to rub salt in the wound. "No. We are still waiting for your man McDonagh to get him and Big Kate O'Malley over to take a proper look, but that could take months. The building is still empty. I couldn't tell Simon about the problem with the pumps - since the city started letting in seawater, he's taken any sort of personal criticism really badly, straight to heart. Even though the pumps were out of our hands, he'd take that as just another nail in his coffin, and I really don't want to feed him any more shit to go crying to that Dr Sofia Lamb about."

"Oh Christ, Simon is being treated by that woman?" Ryan asked, concerned. Daniel nodded with an equally concerned grimace. "Is he likely to spill the beans to her about our little arrangement here? I wouldn't trust that bitch Lamb not to take evidence of this collaboration straight to Fontaine - he'd expose it in an effort to ruin me without hesitation!"

Daniel smiled with confidence. "Don't concern yourself Andrew, I haven't told him that I've been telling you about Fontaines building for that very reason. I unfortunately can't trust him myself at the moment - he's in a really unstable place in his head right now. And as for Lamb - I understand she's getting her fingers into many different pies - offering top-rate counselling to many senior figures around the city, and _free_ counselling down in the Paupers Drop slum beneath the Atlantic Express Maintenance Junction."

Andrew Ryan's face screwed up and he held something he was going to blurt out back. "You don't need to tell me what a troublesome woman she is - I brought her down here, by invitation, to stop people complaining about the darkness and confinement. Next thing I know, she almost has a cult following her - she's the worst type of parasite, preying on the poor, building an army out of the unstable."

"She's trying to set up digs too. Approached my brother about a new building in Rapture last month - last I heard from him she'd approached 'Fortesque & Carlson Capital' about investment in the project.

"Has she indeed?" Andrew erupted up out of his seat. "She's out of control, another bloody Fontaine - trying to stir things up where they need not be. Well, we'll see about this project of hers."


	24. Chapter Twenty-Four

**Hephaestus - Rapture Central Control - Office of Andrew Ryan**

It was 2am. The knock on their penthouse door had not only been surprising, but had interrupted an amorous episode between Edward and Sheridan, leaving them in a slightly grouchy mood, until they had learnt from the man at the door that they were requested to meet with Andrew Ryan. Sheridan had quickly dressed in his smartest tweed suit, and Edward a similar outfit in blue, before they made their way through the sleeping city towards Hephaestus. The main body of Hephaestus was accessible to Rapture Citizens, mainly because the facility granted guided tours, however beyond that, all deeper areas and specialized departments were restricted. Upon reaching the entrance to Rapture Central Control, two Security officers had escorted them the rest of the way, deeper in until they were admitted to Ryan's office.

It was bleaker than either had expected, large metallic walls in keeping with the design of the rest of the power facility, simple bronze globes and a few display screens. It was however a working office in the middle of an operational machine - perhaps he had a more elaborate office back in the city center.

Ryan was sat at his desk, but welcomed them both in heartily with a smile and shaking of hands. Edward noted the inevitable second take from Ryan because of them being lovers as well as partners in business, but it was almost becoming second nature for him during any new introduction. It was clear that Ryan was a real 'mans man' and it was no secret in Rapture that more than one woman had lost her heart to him - at the same time.

"I sincerely appreciate your taking the time gentleman to meet with me at such a late hour." He put out three glasses and offered them both a scotch.

"We appreciate it, and its a pleasure to finally sit and meet with you in person Mr Ryan, regardless of what time it is." Sheridan spoke with formality, and even slightly lowered his voice to sound more official.

"I'll jump straight to it gentleman, we are all busy. I understand you have been approached by Dr Sofia Lamb about acquiring some real estate on the cities outskirts?

"We have yes." Sheridan cautiously replied, not wanting any answer, right or wrong, to jeopardize any dealings he could have with Andrew Ryan in the future. This man could make or break them, and he was determined for it to be the first.

"Now make no mistake, I'm not trying to meddle with your business - which I've come to learn is on the rise and making quite the name for itself, as are you both, amongst the high society of Rapture." He charmed them with an admiring smile and nod of congratulations. "However, I wish to both offer you assistance in dodging a bullet, and save myself a considerable headache at the same time."

"We've made no decision regarding Dr Lamb. We have been hesitating - my mother is a devoted friend of hers, but equally we do not wish to become embroiled in something that bares no profit, simply because of family matters." Sheridan quickly explained.

"I urge you, to consider turning down her request for investment gentleman. I do not say such things lightly, as you know I am an advocate for every entrepreneur and adventurous businessman, but Sofia Lamb is causing great disturbance throughout Rapture, and until I can establish to scale of the damage she is causing, I would appreciate it if she not be endorsed in anyway." Sheridan paused, thinking. Edward could only imagine what was going on in his head - wanting to please Andrew Ryan, saying no to Dr Lamb, letting down his mother, and of course the potential profit lost should Dionysus Park prove commercially viable after all.

"We've put out our own feelers for word on Dr Lamb, and we have come to the same conclusion that she is controversial, certainly thinks highly of herself. It also troubled us how quickly she won my mother over - a feat considered by most to be impossible!" Sheridan's joke fell flat on Ryan, who offered back only the slightest of chuckles. "We were yet to properly analyse the potential profit to be earned from her proposed 'Dionysus Park' before making our final decision.

"And by asking you to cut your involvement with Dr Lamb, you are rightly concerned about a missed opportunity for profit. I had given that some thought Gentleman." He got up from his chair, and came around to the front of his desk, perching instead on the corner informally. He looked straight at Sheridan.

"You were one of the first to arrive in Rapture, in part you helped build Rapture as much as any of us - funding the Rapture Metro, feeding our economy. Yet I never see you in any of my social circles. Why is that?" Nobody answered, but Sheridan felt a flush of shame and humiliation.

"Well, what would you say if I offered you a rightful place on the Rapture Council, Sheridan?" Sheridan was struck dumb, and stuttered at first. Edward smiled for him, knowing how long that secret desire had burned away inside him.

"On the council, you'll earn a new level of respect, of access to projects within the city. Do you think the potential earnings and opportunities as a council member would offset any potential losses by turning down Dr Lamb?" sheridan leapt to his feet. "A thousand fold, Mr Ryan. I think we have a deal."

Ryan was clearly relieved, and returned to his proper seat. "Excellent! I knew you were the right type of man for Rapture, and for the council. As a show of my word, I have had a new project come up only this morning that I'll send your way - Augustus Sinclair has an interesting idea, not entirely different from Dr Lamb's, but with considerable more scope and potential than a glorified art gallery." Sheridan shook his hand in gratitude.

"Just promise me, that tomorrow, you turn down Sofia Lamb!"


	25. Chapter Twenty-Five

**Arcadia**

Amelia offered a faint smile from her park bench, and closed her book as Sheridan approached across the grass. He was pleased to see her alone, as he had requested in his letter.

"Good afternoon son, you look very well." She moved up and offered him a seat beside her.

"Thank you. It is good to be on speaking terms again mother - its been very painful to know you are so close yet so far. I have no idea what been going on in your life, and I've missed sharing my own achievements with you." He was keen to get in as many pleasantries as possible before he had to break the news to her of his intention to decline Dr Lamb's request for funding.

"You chose a life, years ago apparently, that I could not offer my blessing to Sheridan. What did you really expect would happen down here in Rapture? Did you think just because it wasn't illegal to lay with another man here, that I would automatically change my own opinions?" She asked earnestly.

"I had hoped that once down here, and you had seen how much I cared for Edward, that you would re-evaluate those opinions, and that your feelings as my mother, no matter how much of a hard nut you might be, would triumph over everything else."

Amelia clasped her hands anxiously in her lap, and couldn't look him in the face directly. "Well they don't, and they won't I'm afraid. That boy is an unforgiveable sin, a servant boy that has come into wealth and un-deserved luxuries through a devilish act." She said definately.

"Oh mother, when men have built a city like Rapture at the bottom of the sea, and achieved other such accomplishments, can you not let God and Satan go? There is only us, nobody judging us, no God raining down punishment. Can you not just come home to us, have a family again?" Something he said touched a nerve, as she shuddered slightly. But nevertheless, she looked away, fluttering her eyelashes to hold back some tears, and keen to end the encounter, jumped straight to the point.

"So yes or no, will you at least redeem yourself slightly and help Sofia Lamb? Help me?" Her voice was slightly broken by the sobs that wanted to come out.

Sheridan sighed, "Mother... there is more to all of this than just saying yes or no to an investment, and I wish I could explain it all to you in a way you'd understand. But what I will say is that we don't like Dr Lamb, she is a troublemaker, and no good will come from her."

Amelia's wrinkled, aged lips began to tremble, and the first tear escaped and trickled down her cheek. "We... WE don't like Dr Lamb...?" She angrily snapped, "Don't bring that freaks opinions into ANY of this! I don't want to hear what he thinks!" She grew more aggitated and her voice broke into a squeal. "So you're not going to lend her the money? You're refusing to help us build Dionysus Park? Just SAY IT!" She screamed, her voice echoing throughout Arcadia and disturbing some others on a leisurely stroll.

"Then we'll just have to do what we can with my money..." Amelia raged as she rose from the bench and began to storm off. Sheridan leapt to his feet and began to chase after her, but the old woman turned briefly and held a hand up to him, "Never try to find me again. You are damned, and you are lost to me Sheridan! LOST!"

She vanished amongst the thick forest beyond.

Crying too, Sheridan wiped his face and sat back down onto the bench. He frantically tried to compose himself, should anyone see him alone, crying in Arcadia, it would do nothing for him as the newest member of the Rapture Council.

"Golly, quite the fracas there. The old girl has quite the hysterics..." The familiar, distinguishable voice of Dr Julie Langford emerged from behind a nearby tree. She was leant up against it with a cigarette in one hand. He glanced at her quickly, but was in no mood to construct a reply.

"She'll learn, one day. Might be too late - for her that is, but she'll learn." She took a puff of her cigarette and slowly released the smoke.

"The place in Rapture with the freshest air, feeding out oxygen supply, and you smoke in here?" He sarcastically asked, briefling looking up at her. She smiled, and waved the cigarette in front of her face. "Well played! But seems to me this city could use the nicotine - I only observe, I don't get involved with anything beyond my tree's, but seems to me things in Rapture are getting a little shaky already for a lot of people."

"Is that right..." He asked, not interested in the slightest.

"Yep, it is. As I told you when we first met, that first day in Rapture - it's been hard enough to adapt Tree's to living underwater in perpetual darkness and artificial light, but at least they can't scheme, plot... go insane. No tree's will just die quietly and peacefully. But trying to adapt tens of thousands of humans to a confined space underwater - sooner or later, there will be a bloodbath."


	26. Chapter Twenty-Six

**Mercury Suites**

Sheridan and Edwards stood in the open doorway of the apartment, watching as removal men carried out the last of the furniture, taking it down to Ryan Auctioneers to be sold. The large golden plaque above the door that had read 'Lady A. Forteque' had already been taken down and was most likely at the smelting works by now being re-cast.

"She sold it apparently, last month." Sheridan's face was long and depressed, deep guilt written all over it. "I hadn't even noticed it was up for sale..."

Edward stepped out and leant over the balcony wall, looking down into the Mercury Suites Atrium, the faint smell of roses riding on a faint breeze generated by the air fans. "Where do you think she has gone? Why sell up? It seems too childish, even for her, to sell her home just to spite you..."

Sheridan sighed and put an arm around Edward as he too looked out into the void. "I don't know where she's gone, I don't know her anymore. I just don't know what has happened to her so quickly... but what I do know is that I was the spark that lit this fire. Maybe I should have left her back in England after all..."

**_Hepheastus - Office of Andrew Ryan_ **

Andrew Ryan was mulling over this fresh news with care - Daniel Wales waiting for his response with both patience and anxiety. Bill McDonagh and Sullivan were both present, having been in a meeting with Ryan when the lone Wales Brother had insisted on seeing him at once. Sullivan had his usual, downtrodden face that was showing grave concern, whilst Bill McDonagh appeared more wary about what conclusion Ryan would come to.

"I'm very surprised at you Daniel, regardless, that you did not have the legal safeguards in place to stop your brother from selling a Wales building without your signature on the paperwork." He began.

"I had the price of the building secured, albeit discounted due to the pending repairs it required to those faulty pumps. But until he got involved with that Lamb woman, me and my brother had always done everything together, I'd never had reason not to trust him implicitly..." Daniel pled for Ryan's understanding, which was not forthcoming. "I went to great lengths to stop her finding anywhere to set up shop, Daniel. I even let a fruit onto the Rapture Council just to pay him off and stop him lending her the money. Where did she get it in the end?".

"Some old bat sat on a stagnating fortune apparently, gave her every last penny she had. Even sold her home and belongings." Daniel whined.

"Why would your brother sell that building to Dr Lamb and her 'cult' if it isn't safe to inhabit?" Bill McDonagh asked, his thick cockney accent withstanding his attempt at formal conversation. Daniel looked to Bill with a hint of shame at his dishonesty.

"He didn't know about the problems with the pumps. He was tearing himself apart about the leaks cropping up all over the city. I couldn't bring myself to burden him with anymore concerns that may look badly on our designs. He thought I suggested the discount because the building was so far from the city centre and didn't yet have a Rapture Metro station." Bill gestured his understanding with an open mouth and nod of his head. "But honestly, that place could flood in minutes if even one of the pressure valves is damaged or turned off at the wrong moment. All the pumps would fail at once, it's a massive cock-up on your teams part..." Daniel tried to start pointing a finger at Bill, panicking.

Ryan turned to them all, which instigated an abrupt silence across the group - he was smiling. "Nobody else knows? Except us?" They could all see the cogs in his brain working overtime.

"Well - my inspection team know..." Daniel replied.

"And big Kate O'Malley will know by now - when the sale went through this morning, I hurried her over there as a priority to give it a final safety check. Standard procedure with any new building on it's first sale." Bill mentioned with worry - worry about what that may mean for 'Big Kate', as he had been unlucky enough to witness Ryan's methods of keeping people silent when he was backed into a corner.

"Can these people be kept quiet? For the right price?" Everyone gave it thought, and nodded.

"Well then... this could be a blessing in disguise gentleman. Dr Lamb is causing a greater and greater problem - I'm hearing her name more and more, from people I never thought would be taken in by her socialist ravings, men I once considered friends and true allies, completely transformed by this woman. I admit I should never have brought her down here - but as I would expect from any other man, I will fix my mistake. Let Sofia convert this building into her 'Dionysus Park' playground, let her gather all the lunatics that listen to her in one place. When the time is right, Dionysus Park will fall victim to a dreadful accident. We'll wipe out this religious zealot and her deluded flock in one go!" His eyes shone bright with pleasure at the thought.

Sullivan nodded in understanding, but Bill slammed a hand down on the desk. "Now hold hard Mr Ryan! You're openly discussing cold blooded murder! And not just one person, but potentially hundreds? We didn't build this beautiful city, which I love as much as my own daughter Sophie, to start heading down roads like this - that's the sort of thing the KGB Commies would do!" The mention of the Russians from Bill struck a chord with Ryan, and the disappointment that Bill was right washed over him. He sadly sank back into his chair.

"Understand me Gentleman, that I consider such things only as a means to safeguard Rapture, to preserve it! If I have to taint my own soul to preserve my vision, then I would consider it a worthy endeavor. However, you are right Bill. It should only be a last resort. But this woman is quickly depriving us of choices as she spreads her filthy doctrine."

"Then you need to spread the word of Rapture out again, stand up to her! It's clear that her big mouth and hearty speeches are getting noticed, so why not play her at her own game? Get yourself and her together and lash this out - when the people here your words against hers, she'll crumble in a second. Everyone came down here because they believed in Rapture afterall, believed in _you_ , let them see that again." Bill emplored, wholeheartedly.

Ryan turned away to think by himself. He yearned to see the Lamb bitch drown in her own pond, but he would have to keep the support of the council, and of the people. Bill McDonagh was right, but Ryan hated that he was.


	27. Chapter Twenty-Seven

**Austen Bathysphere Company Maintenance depot**

Anton was quiet, and had kept to his office when Sheridan had arrived with a guest. He hadn't been very pleased about Sheridan being elected by Ryan onto the council, the one thing he had always had over Sheridan, was having been on the Council as an honorary member from the very start due to his say in how the City be constructed so as to include the Metro system.

"It's a pleasure to make your aquaintance, Mr Sinclair, but I don't understand the need to have our very first chat in a Bathysphere, you can discuss anything with me over a glass or two of brandy in my office, I have quite the imagination. Whatever you're thinking of cooking up, I can picture it!" He smiled, very pleased indeed that Ryan had come through on his promise to send this new project his way, whatever it was.

"Ah trust me sport, what I've got in mind, you'll need to see something for yourself. Anyway, I've been thinking of purchasing my own Bathysphere from you boys - I'll pitch my opportunity to you, whilst you pitch a sale to me. Can't say fairer than that can ya?" He spoke like a second hand car dealer, capable of charming the birds from the trees, but managing to come across as a cheesy conman in one breath. Yet Ryan obviously had trust in the man, Sheridan had looked into their past collaborations, which went back right to the cities founding in 1946, so Sinclair had to be of some benefit.

They climbed in, and out of self-satisfaction, Sheridan waved sweetly at Anton in his office, quietly observing their departure.

The Bathysphere dropped down the small pressurized chute and then slid forwards until clear of the buildings structure. From there, Sinclair sat forward and took the controls, flicking off the auto-guidance controls that linked it to 'The Thinker's pre-programmed traffic routes. "We're going 'off-road' for this one son." Sinclair smiled, lifting his glasses and perching them on his nose.

"So come on, out with it. What's this all about? You appear to be in all sorts of business - so which is it this time? Sinclair Spirits? Sinclair Metals? - ah! I bet thats it - you've found a shipwreck out here you want to slavage? or a spot to build a second 'Sinclair Deluxe' hotel?" Sheridan kept guessing, wondering how he would be involved and for how much capital investment.

Sinclair laughed. "No son, sorry you're wrong on all counts. This is something new, and not just new for me - new for Rapture. I'm sure you've noticed some unsavory characters popping up around the city that none of us hand counted on finding their way down here with the rest of us. And any city with a population this large is bound to have its natural problems with psychiatric issues. But at the moment, they are free to cause trouble for the rest of us, or are costing Rapture's several security firms a fortune. But nobody has anywhere to put these guys - and Ryan has come to Sinclair Solutions a number of times, looking for 'solutions' to problems just like these."

The Bathysphere was heading straight out from the city, passing very close to the new Fontaine Futuristics building. Sheridan glared at the shining blue sign on the front of it, and envied the loss to him still - that building, the research going on inside, should have been his. It was his by right!" Sinclair noticed Sheridan's unfavorable scowl, and laughed. "Ah that's right, I did hear something about your brief collaboration with Tenenbaum before she moved to Fontaine's payroll. I'm guessing from your face it wasn't an amicable departure...? Don't worry kid, hear me out and I guarantee you'll feel a whole lot better!"

He suddenly pushed the submersible down, and it began descending into the deeper darkness away from the city. Behind a large outcrop of rock, Sheridan found that they were nearing the drop-off, the edge of a large abyss nearby. He was curious, and slightly concerned when Sinclair continued the descent into it. "Well, a sure thing is that this will build my confidence in one of your Bathysphere's if they all handle like this baby does!"

"Where are we going?" Sheridan finally asked with more authority, not particularly amused by the theatrical approach.

"Ok son, I'll level with you. See, when we all first came down here, Rapture was still having her feet cemented deep in the bedrock. I was out scouting the area in a sub I rented off old Peach Wilkins in Neptunes Bounty, when I saw an accident! A bunch of fella's had been drilling some basement levels near the Fontaine site when they broke straight through! Two men were dragged right down with a large steel beam and lost to the chasm below.

"Charming..." Sheridan imaged how terrifying that would have been, and was not comforted being at such a depth himself. "Here me out kid, please." Sinclair continued, as he piloted the craft through a small cave opening. "Well I guessed there had to be some sort of cave, ideal maybe for a secure storage facility down here, a place Ryan could store some of his latest technologies until a market for them emerged, that sort of thing. So I jumped right in and bought this land from Ryan, for a song would you believe. No other punter wanted it, just thought it was barren land too rocky for any practical use." He tapped a finger to his nose and made an excited face to Sheridan. "But I'd hit the jackpot friend. When I came back out, I found this beneath it all!"

The Bathysphere came through the small tunnel, into a massive cave, larger than ten cathedrals! What was more, it was brightly lit from below. "Good lord, its huge! Where is the light coming from?" Sheridan stood up and pressed his face against the glass, looking as far down as he could go.

"It's the same geothermal source Ryan's tapped Hepheastus into, it breaks ground someplace further down. So as you can see, there's no floor here to build something on, and at first I was scratching my head as to whether I'd been pissing in the wind buying this place afterall. But I've cracked it now Sheridan. I'm going to _hang_ something here instead."

Sheridan looked back at him as if he were insane!

"I know, I know. Who in their right mind would want a building just begging to be dropped into a massive hole? Well that very question kept my up for a good few nights too. It wasn't just finding a use for such a building, but whatever I built would have to warrant the cost of building such a unique structure."

Sheridan suddenly recalled what Sinclair had been saying about the troublesome characters around Rapture, and Ryan's request for Sinclair to deal with them, and the puzzle suddenly came together with a crash in his mind.

"A prison. You want to build a prison." He cut in, unsure about how he felt about such a thing. "Rapture was built on the spirit of freedom and absence of a ruling government. how on earth can Ryan want you to build him a prison?"

Sinclair looked confident, which meant he'd rehearsed his replies well in advance. "Oh son, for business to thrive, there has to be some sort of order, just without the law. It's simple, these people will have cost Ryan or whatever entity that approaches me money through some sort of misdeed or crime. That company will use Sinclair Solutions to bill the individual for loss of earnings. I buy the debt from the client, and the 'inmate's then work back the debt to me in my prison, until they have purchased their release contract in full. Business!" Sinclair announced, very proud of himself.

"Its a Gulag! A labour camp..." Sheridan accused him of mirroring the Russians and the Germans.

"Call it what you will Sheridan, I've taken to calling it 'Persephone' myself, but it's been requested by enough of Rapture's fattest cats, there's a demand son, and I'm ready to meet that demand, I just need a financial partner to make it happen sooner rather than later. And where better to make Rapture feel safe and secure? Any trouble from these characters, and we can cut the whole place loose into the abyss below." He made a dropping gesture with his hands.

"Killing everyone inside in the process, and loosing your wonderful building, all in one go?"

"Oh don't worry about that son, we'll have the place fully insured! And the security measures inside will be enough to keep it secure. The dropping mechanism will only be a gimmick! We'll never have to use it."

Sheridan looked out at the empty chasm, and the huge drop below. It was daunting, a lonely and oppressive location, which in essence made it ideal for what Sinclair was planning.

Sensing Sheridan's doubt, Sinclair moved on to his hard-sell. "But I haven't told you the best bit friend. Ryan is planning on going head to head with Fontaine over these new genetic products he's testing. Word is they are nearly ready for public sale - _Plasmids_ or something like that. He's commissioned space in 'Persephone' to start testing his own _Plasmids_ that he has people working on right now. What better way for our prisoners to earn back their freedom, than to opt in to the testing programs? And I don't mean only for Ryan. There is nothing in Ryan's proposal stopping us from offering the same supply of human test subjects to Fontaine - whose building is only upstairs!"

Sheridan had stopped listening already, stopped caring about the human cost Sinclair was chalking up as he would any other overhead. This was a chance to get back into the Plasmid game, and he was all in - whatever the up-front cost. He thrust out a hand - "You have my investment Mr Sinclair. Well done."

Smiling, he replied "Call me Augustus then! I'm glad we can do business!"


	28. Chapter Twenty-Eight

**Rapture Tribune**

Stanley Poole sat across from Sinclair, eagerly taking in his assignment. Sinclair must have had a good morning, as he was very cheerful and had barely blinked when Stanley had asked for a twenty percent increase in what Sinclair had proposed to pay Stanley for this covert task.

"Don't involve yourself with Sofia Lamb more than is necessary to gain her trust. We only need you to observe and gather enough information for her to be considered a public threat. Then I can see to it that she is locked away - she won't give you any trouble once I've done that." Sinclair handed over a cheque for the upfront deposit he'd agreed to pay Stanley in good faith.

Stanley was a frail, weasel of a man with a strange face, bulbous nose and large ears that were disproportionate to the rest of his head. Sinclair didn't like entrusting such a high-value contract as this with Stanley, but it made sense to use a reporter to rat out Dr Lamb's secrets - hungry for information, relentless in its pursuit, and a basic knowledge of operating under cover when necessary. "I won't say who has hired my services to bring Lamb down, but I will say that it comes from the top, so neither of us can afford for Lamb to uncover this, or get the better of us. Bring her down, and fast."

Stanley grinned as he looked down at the cheque. "Piece of cake Sinclair, she won't know what hit her!"

"I've also been asked by a second party, for information on someone close to Dr Lamb. Old biddy called 'Amelia Fortesque', paid for the new 'Dionysus Park' venue Lamb is fitting out.

"Fortesque? As in Sheridan Fortesque? Fortesque and Carson Capital?" Stanley knew his stuff. Sinclair nodded, "That's her. No digging, just keep an eye on her. Let me know if you think the old girl is in any sort of trouble."

Sinclair looked around the room for any sign of an eavesdropper, before completing the briefing. "One last thing Stanley. Repeat this to anyone, and I can assure you, you'll have more than our broken contract to worry about." Both leant in closer and lowered their voices to a whisper. "There may come a time, when the information you provide demonstrates Lamb as a much greater danger than we currently assume. Now ideally, I want Lamb for a project of my own I'm working on, but I'm being paid by my client to implement this fail safe, and I'm entrusting it to you too. If we consider Lamb too dangerous to keep around, there is a fault within Dionysus Park that we'll need you to exploit. The pumps... they can be...unstable..."

**Fort Frolic**

**Fleet Hall**

Edward stood at the back of the auditorium, not having taken a seat as he wished to wait for Sheridan to join him after his appointment at Dandy Dental, and knew they would never find each other among the giant crowd that had gathered for the debate. It was making his stomach churn, listening to Dr Lamb. She was laying into Andrew Ryan pretty hard, and for all the fancy turns of phrase she came out with, he couldn't pin point exactly what it was she was saying was wrong with his leadership. He had built this fantastic city from nothing, given thousands a new home and a new life, a life of freedom to make a new start on their own terms - god knows he had come out on top because of Andrew Ryan.

 _"White is not black, Doctor Lamb - down is not up, and straw is not gold. Look around you. Rapture is no miracle - it is a product of reason, impossible unless one and one are two, and A equates to A."_ Edward cheered in agreement, glad to see Ryan trump the old cows last self righteous ramble.

Barely phased by his swinging come back, Dr Lamb continued. "And _yet... alone, each man is a prisoner to bias. Dream, delusion, or the pain of a phantom limb - to one man, they are as real as rain. Reality is consensus... and the people are losing faith. Take a walk Andrew. It is raining in Rapture... and you have simply_ **chosen** _not to notice."_

Half the crowd surrounding Edward suddenly launched into applause, and the giant hall was a cacophony of cheering. Andrew Ryan looked around the room at those cheering, and Edward could see the heart break on his face, the pain that would so quickly turn to anger and hatred. The thousands he had given so much to, turning on him. It made Edward just as angry himself, such ungrateful behaviour. Edward had grown up with nothing, and always been content to live with nothing. But luck and love had landed him on his feet and given him the chance to grow into the man he was today, and that was down to two men - Sheridan Fortesque and Andrew Ryan. As he too looked around at those offering Sofia Lamb a standing ovation, he did notice that most were working class - the poorer side of Rapture. Now Edward wondered if perhaps he was still the urchin mopping the floors in his parents back-street pub in London, would he be looking on this situation differently? But no - he didn't think he would. Everyone in Rapture had been given an equal footing - an equal opportunity to thrive. If some had made it and others hadn't, that was life. That was nature - there was always the have's, and always the have not's, wherever you went in the world. He had understood that even when he was a have-not. True perhaps that Rapture was lacking in some basic services for the very poorest of Rapture - but Edward reminded himself of what Ryan would say - 'What better motivation to get out there and help yourself?'

The more he told himself that however, he did question the integrity of that argument - plenty enough people in Fleet Hall right now would disagree, desperately. But that was how Dr Lamb was opposing Ryan now - the genius in her psychiatry clearly a sharp tool. She was targeting her words at one of the biggest sub-groups in the city, the poor, empathising with them, giving them a very loud voice, and earning their support on the process. Edward wondered - did Sofia Lamb actually mean a word she was saying, or was it all a means to an end - an end that saw her as much a power in Rapture as Ryan himself? Because the compassion she preached - Edward had certainly seen no evidence of it in her...

Sheridan arrived late, out of breath from running through the lobby from Fort Frolic. "What have I missed?" He wheezed. "Nothing I care to recount so soon. Lets just go..." Edward guided him back out the door, very, very worried.

"Well that was a rush for nothing then..." Sheridan complained slightly, "I'm on the council now, I really should be there..."

"Trust me. I can give you the gist of it later." Edward sighed.

"Ok, as long as I can give you the gist of something too - by far the biggest chance we've yet had! I can't wait to tell you! And first thing tomorrow, we are heading to Fontaine's new Department Store." Sheridan was clearly buzzing about something.

"I thought that would be the last place you'd want to go..."

"Trust me. We might just be back in the Plasmid race, and we need to check out the market."


	29. Chapter Twenty-Nine

**Fontaines Department Store - Fontaine Plasmids Showroom**

Edward was determined to keep the smile on his face. When Sheridan had divulged the Sinclair contract to him, he'd been hit with such a mixed wave of emotions, he'd been unable to give a genuine reaction, and he still wasn't sure whether a smile was the way he wanted to go, but it made things easier with Sheridan for now.

Edwards first reaction was that of outrage at the fact Sheridan had once again taken off on his own and involved himself in a business deal without involving or consulting Edward. Now he still felt out of place feeling that way, even after all these years - his sense of gratitude and 'proper place' still made him feel as though he had little right to demand an equal share of everything, when Sheridan had already chosen to give him so much when he hadn't been obliged to give him a dime. Neither had it escaped his notice, that this behavior mirrored the behavior that Sheridan had adopted only the once before, again when this 'ADAM' chemical, these slugs and Plasmids had been in his grasp. That pattern of behavior did not fill Edward with confidence in ADAM or Plasmids as a venture they should be backing, for Sheridans sake.

And yet, the newborn capitalist in Edward could see that if these Plasmids make Sheridan and everyone else so exciteable and willing to part with such vast sums of money in the pursuit of further developing them, then perhaps this was the revolutionary, unmissable product Sheridan said it was. Also, despite the way Sheridan had behaved back when Tenenbaum had first been experimenting with ADAM under Sheridan's employ, Edward cared for his lover's hurt feelings and disappointment, and if Sinclair's proposal meant they could combat Fontaine's monopoly, or at least ride on his coat tails for a while and earn back some place in it all for them, then he was in full support - for profit and vengeance's sake.

The idea of using human test subjects was an ethical dilemma entirely new to Edward, one a poverty-born valet never fathomed he'd be faced with in his life. Yet from what he had seen at the demonstration, this new 'Persephone' would soon be home to most of the mob that were unjustly attacking Ryan, and by that same act, Rapture itself. He didn't feel sorry for such ungrateful, thuggish hooligans earning themselves a week or two in the lock-up to cool their heels. And if they chose to willingly opt-in to test some of these new Plasmids to earn an early release, then everyone was a winner, surely?

He had been pondering all of this as he rode on Sheridans arm, taking in Rapture's newest attraction and venue - well, at least until Lamb had finished fitting out Dionysus Park. Fontaine clearly had amassed substantial wealth since giving up his topside fishing fleet and coming down to Rapture, because this building was magnificent and no expense could possibly have been spared in making it so. Crowds of people were flowing through its corridors, exploring the clothing shops, enjoying exciting new menu's and cuisine in the many new eateries.

"This can't all be off the back of fishing..." Sheridan critisized as they finally reached the Plasmid showroom. Since those early days, Sheridan had only really been aware of ADAM's healing qualities, and perhaps its potential to assist cosmetic alterations. But after seeing the 'Winter Blast' and 'Teleport' that waiter had been trialling in the El Dorado Lounge, he was both keen and nervous about seeing how far Tenenbaum had developed it, just how many rewards she had reaped.

The 'Winter Blast' was the first to be on display at the very front of the display, large blue posters and banners scattered between pillars. A demonstrator stood on a plinth and was moving his hand to create a tiny blizzard in his palm. He had seen it of course, and the knot of jealousy tightened in his stomach.

Edward, was stunned. He'd vaguely understood this ADAM could manipulate the human body and mend a wound. But this... this was remarkable. The sheer power he was witnessing before him, stripped him of all confidence and knowledge of the world as he had come to know it, and made him feel as though he was back to being a scared, ten year old boy looking up at the first motor car he'd ever seen. Ice and wind in this mans hand, under his control! It was beyond magic, beyond anything humanly possible... yet there it was! "Oh my darling, look at it!" He tugged at Sheridan's sleeve, just as he had done his mothers skirt when he'd seen that motor car as a little boy. Sheridan smirked, amused by Edward's naive reaction, but also angered by the impression on his beloved that these bastards had made, with something that should have been his! HE should have been the one to strike his lover, to strike the city with awe with these powers!

They moved around the central display, and next came to a woman demonstrating 'Incinerate', as plasmid designed to help with simple household tasks such as lighting the oven, stoking the fireplace or lighting a candelabra. Gleaming with that showcase smile, the woman clicked her fingers and lit a flame - it burnt from beneath her nail, yet left no scorch! Caused no pain! She suddenly reached out her arm, and threw a ball of fire into a mock-fireplace, igniting a stack of logs into a blazing inferno. The round of applause was deafening. Edwards eyes were like saucers, watching with fascination - he had to have a crack at that! As Edward reached for a syringe of Incinerate, Sheridan had already started off towards the 'Electrobolt' display.

After a brief few minutes, both were sat with a Fontaine nurse, who sat with both on a couch. Her every move apparently choreographed to resemble a showgirl in a new car showroom, she gently assisted them in injecting their syringes.

"Jesus Christ!" Sheridan screamed suddenly, and his face went a dark, dark red. He broke a sweat within a second, and started to hunch over, clutching his stomach. Never breaking her showroom smile, the nurse sympathetically held his hand. "Don't worry sir! It is but a fleeting moment - one you'll never have to go through again!" He seemed to fall into a daze, and Edward was all but calling for a doctor, when he finally breathed out, and managed a weak, shocked giggle.

"Bloody hell girl, you didn't put that in the adverts!" He held out his arm, and suddenly, instantly - the first few sparks jumped and fizzled around his fingers. His smiled grew wider, from ear to ear. My god, this feels fantastic! What a KICK!" He nudged Edward beside him, and nodded towards the syringe of Incinerate he was clutching. "Come on Eddie, get it into your system!"


	30. Chapter Thirty

**Fontaines Department Store - Housewares**

Edward couldn't stop playing with his hand - holding it out infront of him and constantly pushing sparks and fizzles from his fingers whilst Sheridan giggled in delight. He'd gotten a bit carried away just a few moments ago in the Menswear department and he'd cast a veritable firebomb at a display of new dinner jackets, incinerating the lot. They'd had to pay for the damage, but neither could held laughing the entire time.

"This is really what we are going to be working on, once you and Sinclair have built Persephone?"

Sheridan hushed him quickly. "Ease down on the excitement there sugar plum, remember, part of the contract with Ryan is that Persephone is on a need to know basis. It's not strictly a secret, but he doesn't want it advertised either. A prison is a dangerous step towards installing laws and a system of government - both of which go against the very principles of this great city."

Edward sighed in agreement. "I know. Then why not just call it what it is, a Plasmid research facility?"

"Because we want to get a head start on our research with Ryan Industries before Fontaine can twig on. Plus, the whole 'experimenting on humans' thing I suppose could raise quite a few eyebrows. It's best the research side stay quiet - as it is only a by product of the prison itself after all, a method through which people can earn their release. People go in to be punished, not as a guaranteed test subject." Sheridan explained.

"I suppose - but its still a slippery slope. I see this Plasmid business spiralling out of control when more people try this!" He let off a small burst of flames in his palm. "What happens when the number of volunteers already imprisoned in Persephone doesn't meet with our demand for test subjects?"

Sheridan laughed. "Then we'll just have to find more criminals to lock up! Make them criminals if we have to!" He laughed aloud and shoved Edwards shoulder. "Don't look so grim, I'm only kidding! Sinclair isn't the type to do that, and Ryan would never sanction something so blatantly criminal."

Edward didn't reply, but he did pause to ponder - Sheridan's comic response seemed a bit too well thought through - as if the idea had been considered for longer than the duration of his little joke.

He didn't have time to wonder for much longer, as their exploration of the Housewares department brought them through into a large entrance foyer with a large window overlooking the city.

"Sweet holy fuck..." Sheridan froze and looked up. Suspended over head was a large red neon sign - 'Bathyspheres DeLuxe'. Quickly sharing a look of horror, the pair scrambled through the doors and into a massive hall. Their first few steps in were enough to take in the sight before them, and they stopped to stare, aghast.

A large Bathysphere hung over them, in a large tubular display case. It wasn't however, one of their Bathyspheres, or indeed any type of Austen-designed Bathysphere. It was sleek, elegant and clearly designed to reflect the most contemporary fashions and style. It was a deep glossy red, with striking Chrome detailing, a stark contrast to the more generic Ryanium and steel hulls of the Austen Bathysphere's, which would now look antique by comparison.

Edward pointed across the room, "Look! Just fucking look at that!" His hand pointed at the 'Test Drive' and 'Service Bay' signs, and their mortified gaze lept in shock from each display to the next, unique and varied designs of Bathysphere, with beautifully illustrated posters and displays.

"Oh my god... Edward, we are finished!" Sheridan had gone pale, and sheer terror flooded his face. "How can we compete with this? We haven't even built a showroom for our custom designs yet... we just have Anton's crappy catalogue."

In silent despair, they took each others hand, and ventured through the large collection of displays and demonstration features. Freshly-groomed young sales men adorned every exhibit, every corner it seemed, spouting off about the revolutionary new safety features, the luxurious interiors and payment plans for first-time buyers.

Taking a gamble that being a lowly enough employee, one of the salesman may not recognise him as being at all associated with the Austen Bathysphere company, Edward approached one, smiling and faking interest in the large red Bathysphere in the centre of the room. "Tell me my friend, who on earth gets all the credit for designing that beauty? She's stunning!" The young salesman, wearing his rehearsed smile well and clearly keen to make a sale, nearly sang his response.

"Why Anton Kinkaid of course! The father of the Bathysphere himself, this is his new line of advanced designs, a year in the making, all in partnership with the fabulous Frank Fontaine himself!" Edward couldn't help but let his facade drop, and quickly staggered away from the salesman. his head began to slip into overdrive trying to conjure up some way to break this to Sheridan, but it was too late. Sheridan stood only a few feet back, and had heard every word.

His lips quivered, twitching up and down alternating between a growl and a sob. His fists were clenched so tight that some sparks generated by his new 'Electrobolt' plasmid danced around his thumb and fell to the floor, as if he were a severed cable.

"Oh my darling... I'm sorry..." Edward held back his own anger towards Anton Kinkaid in favour of supporting his clearly distressed lover, but was refused.

"Don't even bother Edward, don't even try! This is beyond calming down. This is fucking treason, betrayal! Lets find that fucker right now... and he will extend us the decency to tell us about this to our face, even if we have to reach down his fucking throat and rip it out for ourselves!"


	31. Chapter Thirty-One

Athena's Glory - Apartment of Anton Kinkaid.

Anton was sat on his couch, tuning in to his new television set. The signal was still a bit hazy, he kept getting the generic 'Rapture Logo' display that came up whenever a channel was lost. It made him wonder about how Charles Milton Porter was going to react when he discovered Reed Wahl had gone behind his back and worked with Anton to get the new line of Bathyspheres onto the Thinker's grid. They'd both known Porter's misplaced ethics would have seen him go running to Edward the moment he knew of Anton's defection to Fontaine from his own company.

The new Bathysphere DeLuxe showroom had opened that morning, so he knew it wouldn't be too long before news of his deception reached Sheridan's ears, and those of his lapdog Edward. But he really didn't care anymore, at least not about upsetting Sheridan. He was worried about what trouble the faggot could try and make for him though, and whether that in turn could jeopardize his so-far fruitful collaboration with Frank Fontaine. But this was all afterall part of the Rapture way - look after number one, pursue your own interests, benefit from the sweat of your brow, he didn't owe Sheridan or anyone else anything anymore.

There was no knock. No ringing of the doorbell. The only precursor to Kinkaids front door being blown from its frame into a shower of splinters was Edwards protests, "Sheridan no I won't use it for that... we can't just..." Sheridan had shouted loud enough for Anton to hear - "Just fucking do it Edward! Burn the fucking door down, now!"

The explosion of fire had vaporized the door entirely, and blackened the wooden flooring inside the apartment for a further six feet. Anton crawled over the arm of his couch and hid behind the end of it, his heart racing and ears ringing.

"Kinkaid! Get here now!" Sheridan was blinded by anger, consumed by his pain and jealousy towards all those abandoning him to advance their own profits, and Edward feared he was not himself. He could see the mounting rage inside his partner by the growing storm of electricity around both his fists. Edward himself had been stunned by the amount of destructive force he had suddenly been able to summon so easily from his bare hands - a ball of fire bigger than his own body that could obliterate a solid door! All of this from ADAM? From a bloody slug?

Kinkaid finally peered up from behind the couch, and raised his hands up. "Calm the fuck down Sheridan. Calm the fuck down or how can I talk to you?"

"Stand up like a man and look me in the eye you back-stabbing bastard." Sheridan was sweating profusely.

"Stand up like a man? How dare _you_ of all people say that to me. Prancing around with your little boyfriend, a fucking queer. Some man you turned out to be, wouldn't you say?" This time it was Edward who jumped to the defence. It was his boldest move yet. The words from Kinkaid just struck every chord they could, both the insult to Sheridan, and the disrespect to him, belittling him with such clear disgust.

"Fuck you!" Edward shrieked, and before he even knew he'd done it, he let off another fireball, that cleared Anton's head by barely an inch, striking the large glass window at the back of the room with a deep thud, leaving a large scorch mark.

"Shit! You guys have _Plasmids?"_ He realised. Ignoring the deviation from the issue, Sheridan continued. "Tell me why Anton, why Fontaine. We worked on everything together, we were friends. I funded everything you worked on, that _we_ worked on, I gave you a small fortune, and would have given you even more! Why turn on me now?"

Shaking but trying to hide it, Anton stepped out into clear view. "We were like brothers Sheridan, we were. _Were._ But you changed so quickly, the moment we were down here. I tried to turn a blind eye to you being a queer, I really did, and probably could have done so still, but you lost your focus a few years back, and you lost interest in me, in the Austen Bathysphere company."

Sheridan thought back to his depression after Tenenbaum's betrayal, and his drinking, how that whole period had nearly cost him his darling Edward and affected the business. But something within him, something new, couldn't quite let him take the guilt for any of that anymore, all he could feel was hatred. It had been others that had pushed him into that situation, and the fortune he had ploughed into Kinkaids company was more than enough to purchase a little time out.

"Did we not still prosper? Are you still not a multi-millionaire on the Rapture Council for fuck sake? I even came up with the very idea of customizing Bathysphere's - that was _my idea!_ Then you run off to Fontaine with it for what? a Bigger cheque? I'd have paid whatever it took to make this work!"

Anton sarcastically smiled and looked down in hopelessness. "It's not just the money. Fontaine has influence, vision, drive. It takes more than throwing money at this to make it a success. I couldn't rely on you for too long, so you've lost out. Just take it like a man, like the businessman you used to be, and move on. You still have shares in the Austen Bathysphere Company, and you'll still recieve a vast income from it, and the Rapture Metro. Now move, the fuck, on."

Edward looked quickly at Sheridan, and had been about to say "Competition was bound to rear its ugly head sooner or later - that's Rapture!" But never got to it. Sheridan raised the palm of his hand, and with every fibre of his being, unleashed the strongest storm of lightening he could create.

Kinkaid was lifted from his feet, catapulted across his apartment with tremendous speed, screaming in agony as he flew, his skin melting, his blood boiling. His smoking body struck the same glass window that Edwards fireball had done, cracking it under the immense strike. Groaning with what little life he still possessed, Anton slid to the floor in a smoldering heap. His weak arms reached out to try and lift himself back up. "My God... I can't see." He coughed up a torrent of black blood, and spat out burnt lumps of flesh from deep in his chest. "I'm blind! What have you done to me? Help me... my god!"

Sheridan watched, and slowly moved his fingers. "Oh Edward... what have I done?" He whispered, shaking, with tears starting to roll down his face as he looked at his old friend on the floor. "I couldn't control myself, I didn't mean to do this...!" He spluttered as he fell down into Anton's couch.

Edward hadn't heard him however. He hadn't been listening. He too was looking down on Kinkaid, and felt something in his mind that was alien to him, an influence, a sort of intoxicating distortion unlike anything he'd ever felt. A compulsion from within his brain seemed to take over at that moment, feeding off his emotions, his desire for revenge for Sheridan, for himself after Kinkaid's offensive remarks, his betrayal of them both.

"Edward no!" Sheridan tried to stop him, but Edward clicked his fingers towards Kinkaid without remorse, and set him ablaze.


	32. Chapter Thirty-Two

**Persephone Construction Site - Inner Pressurized Containment**

"Sweet Jesus, you boys certainly did a number on that fella' didn't ya!" Sinclair bent down to look over the charred figure slouched against the hull of the surfaced Bathysphere. A very subtle groan came from between the melted features that had once been his lips.

"We did... I know we did, and I can't explain to you why. But the poor bugger just won't die. Keeps on coughing and murmuring. I managed to buy some raw Adam under the counter from a girl at Fontaine's for a bribe, and injected it into him same way Tenenbaum did with my knee. Seems to have kept him going for now." Sheridan sat on a small crate of tools, his shirt unbuttoned, his jacket discarded and his hair a sweaty mess.

"So this boy's going to be our first resident huh?" Sinclair obliviously turned away from the half-dead Anton.

"Me and Edward agreed, that if there was one thing that could fix him up, its ADAM. And Persephone will soon be flowing with the stuff. So if we can hide him here and keep our names out of the mud, but also give him a chance at hanging on to life, then let's do it." Sheridan explained, out of breath despite being sat still. The small room was cramped, currently the only Bathysphere access point to the first pressurized section of Persephone. The stink of charred flesh had filled it quickly, an inescapable reminder of what he and Edward had done.

"Ryan won't be sorry to see Kinkaid shut away for a while, I can tell you that." Sinclair dragged Anton Kinkaid out of the Bathysphere and led him on the tiled floor of the small room, draping a sheet over him to hide the gruesome sight of his face.

Sheridan, even through his depression and guilt over Kinkaid, perked up at the mention of Ryan's name. "Oh really? Why is that?"

"Fontaine hasn't only made an enemy out of you son, he's rubbed half of Rapture up the wrong way. He's taken Ryan's own philosophies about business and used them to rival the old boy himself. Some say through subsidiaries, loans and confidential buyouts, Fontaine owns nearly as much of this city as Ryan does by now."

Sheridan welcomed the resurfacing jealousy that statement filled him with, it distracted him from his guilt, and felt a whole lot better. "Well, with our little operation here, lets see if we can't give that bastard Fontaine a run for his money!"

Sinclair winked, "I like your thinking son. That sounds like my kinda business." Both were then disturbed by the Bathysphere closing its own door automatically, and descending into the sea. "Its going down in to the queue bay - someone else wants to dock. But I ain't expecting any company at this late hour" Sinclair stepped up to the waters edge and looked down, the lights of the approaching Bathysphere shining up at him, turning his face gold.

"Here comes company" He nervously observed.

"What about Kinkaid? Damn I thought we'd be alone here - help me move him!" The pair quickly dashed to Kinkaid and began dragging him from view, with the only option being a few storage crates to use to conceal him. They kicked his protruding feet out of sight just as the Bathysphere settled into position, and the door opened.

"A very good evening to you gentlemen." Andrew Ryan appeared from within, as ever followed closely by Sullivan. Ryan was in a more casual polo-shirt and bomber jacket, the late hour not requiring his traditional brown or beige suits.

"Mr Ryan, as always a pleasure. But I'm afraid I wouldn't recommend a site visit just yet, Persephone's not even a quarter built, and we don't have much more to show you beyond this room and perhaps the first cell-block, without its bars I'm afraid." Sinclair hid his nerves well, ever the charmer.

"Relax, Augustus." He offered a kindly hand on his shoulder, and looked down at Sheridan from the top of the steps. "My, my Fortesque, you look dreadful. Rough night? Looks as though you boys are building this place with your own bare hands!" He was very confident, he knew something was amiss.

"Let me put you at ease. I know about Kinkaid, and I know you have him here. Is he dead?" Sinclair and Sheridan paused and each waited for the other to reply.

"Ha, don't look so worried. You've done me a great service, both of you. He was getting too close to Fontaine to keep on the council, he'd have placed us all at great risk. Augustus, you've proven to me now that Persephone is regrettably necessary, and will serve its intended purpose very well. Get him into a cell, get him fixed up with some of this ADAM gunge, and then he will be the first to try out Ryan Industries first Plasmid range. Whether he volunteers...or not."

The room fell silent, as it became clearer that although nobody would say it aloud, the voluntary opt-in to trial Plasmids whilst incarcerated in Persephone would undoubtedly end up being...involuntary. But to speak up against this eventuality, was to risk missing out on the glory. Not one of the three men would take that risk.

"As much as I was hesitant to build Rapture a prison, I can't help but fantasize about who I'd throw in here as a personal indulgence. Dr Lamb for one..., can't wait to get some dirt on her and see the back of her. Fontaine and his band of merry men too..." Ryan circled the small room, looking up at the ceiling as if his vision could see through to its very structure, and even its future. "Yes, I think you and your Persephone, gentleman, will help me win back my city."


	33. Chapter Thirty-Three

**Dionysus Park**

"But... I don't quite understand Dr Lamb. Forgive me, but if you don't intend to charge for people to visit Dionysus Park, how are we to turn a profit?" Amelia asked nervously, quietly, her hands trembling in her lap. They were in the Piano Bar, sat beside the windows at a small table, enjoying a small sherry each.

"Charging people to enjoy the unity, the ideals of Dionysus Park, would make me as bad as Andrew Ryan, Amelia. Every miracle he produces, comes with a price tag, instantly putting it out of reach for the poorer classes of Rapture. This park, is for everybody. Everybody needs to see it, they need to hear its message, see it's beauty and learn from it. That is the first step in how we will bring this city into a new age." Dr Lambs eyes sparkled, and she looked out into the sea as she pictured the future that was, to her, inevitable.

"I understand that..." Amelia trailed off. She was tortured inside, her old heart aching and her aged stomach churning with doubt. She felt guilty for even attempting to express such selfish concerns to the great Dr Lamb, but Amelia had been lead to believe that the millions she had handed over to Sofia Lamb, so that she could purchase the building, would be re-reimbursed to her from the admissions. She was sure that was the impression Dr Lamb had given her, and yet now that she tried to think back, Sofia Lamb had clearly been very careful not to explicitly say those precise words either.

Dr Lamb took Amelia's thin, withered hand. "Your rewards for helping me realise this place, will be unlimited, Amelia. Forget financial rewards, that is your old life talking, the flawed life that lured you like a demon to Rapture in the first place. It is your mental health and your well-being that will make you wealthy, my dear friend. We will gaze upon Utopia one day, side by side. And I will never forget it was you who cleared the path for us all." She smiled gently, and even shed a tear.

Amelia, smiled too, but the tears that came after were not tears of bliss, or happiness. Amelia was now destitue, hungry and homeless. She had hung in quite happily, although never without the nagging doubt in the back of her mind, hoping to see her investment returned to her once Dionysus Park opened its gates. She had no idea what to do now, or where to go. Ever since her flow of capital into Dr Lamb's bank account had petered out, the Doctor had shown less and less interest in Amelia, and offered her less input on the design and planning of the venue. After months of tackling Simon Wales, fighting his ideas with her own and ensuring that she had always contributed more than he to Dr Lamb's goals, Amelia had come out on top, and Simon Wales had taken himself off into the cities slums such as Paupers Drop, to preach Dr Lamb's teachings under his own management. Amelia had celebrated a private victory on that day. But her victory had been short lived, as somehow, a new comer by the name of Stanley Poole, had won over Dr Lamb to such an extent that she had given him a senior role in the operation of Dionysus Park - without his donating as much as a single Rapture Dollar!

As Amelia now looked at Dr Sofia Lamb across the table, her heart ached, as she considered the possibility that this woman had manipulated her, hungry for her fortune, regardless of whatever lofty intent she had to use it for, that would still be a move worthy of this disgusting, corrupt city. Yet as much as that seemed to be the case, Amelia could not bring herself to speak an ill word against Dr Lamb, she loved her. She loved that great woman, who amongst the people that now came in to Dionysus Park, stood for righteousness and unity of the people. 'Perhaps such an eventual paradise, warrants a little foul play...' she thought to herself, before giving attention to the nagging memory that it was her at the receiving end of that foul play.

Amelia drank her sherry in a single gulp, and left the table without a single further word to Dr Lamb - who observed her departure from the corner of her eye, as if she had actually been impatiently waiting for it.

With her back now entirely to Sofia Lamb, Amelia let her sadness rise to the surface, and openly began to cry. She could think of only one place to go, one place she'd be welcome without first having to hand over a fortune. In her time spent alongside Dr Lamb, she'd met many of her patients and followers, and none were as grounded and realistic as the Negress she'd come across in Paupers drop, a headliner from 'The Limbo Room', Grace Holloway.

Not giving Dionysus Park, or the fortune of hers from which it had been realised, a second look, Amelia stepped onto the very next Atlantic Express that rolled into the station, and with the last few Rapture Dollars in her pocket, purchased a one-way ticket to Paupers Drop.


	34. Chapter Thirty-Four

**Talos Tower - Office of Sheridan Fortesque and Edward Carson**

The office was silent this morning. The phone hadn't rung once yet, and the only appointment in the book on the secretaries desk had been one placed by Anton Kinkaid, presumable as a front to keep up appearances until after the truth had presented itself.

Edward sat alone, with only the song of a passing blue whale outside the office window for company. He hadn't opened any of his ledgers, his business diary, or touched his morning coffee. He was sat with an elbow on the desk, and watched himself flick a flame on and off between his thumb and his forefinger. He mindlessley watched the first little sign of a scorch made by the ignition against his skin, before the ADAM flowing through his veins quickly healed the damage.

He hadn't slept at all through the night, but had done more or less the same whilst sat up in bed, waiting for Sheridan to return from Persephone, which he hadn't done. He wondered if Kinkaid had perhaps died finally, and Sheridan and Sinclair were deep into plotting a cover-up. He knew that if that was the case he should bear his share of the burden and be there with them, but for some reason, the longer he'd had this ADAM in his system, the less punctual he'd been about reacting to his emotions - a part of his old self still conscious beneath the effect of the ADAM hoped this was merely a temporary side effect of the initial ingestion.

He stopped playing with fire, and put his aching arm down across the desk to rest. He couldn't avoid looking at the scale model replica of an Austen Bathysphere that stood against one of the office walls beneath its own display lamp. He supposed, with Sheridan dealing with the fallout of last nights incident, and also having taken on much of the dealings with Sinclair, it was only right that Edward should take upon himself the task of restructuring their Transport division in the absence of Anton Kinkaid.

He pulled across a blank piece of paper, with their Capital Investment logo stamped on the top, and began jotting down his plan of action. First of all, he would employ again the services of Booker Dewitt, to deduce whether Kinkaid had left a will - they ran the initial risk of having Anton's 50% of the Bathysphere company either left to some anonymous heir, or floating around unprotected, open to the quickest predator currently hunting in the open market. Secondly, they needed to establish a plan to counteract that damned pretentious Bathysphere DeLuxe of Fontaine's. Agressive expansion with their own showroom perhaps, there was some vacant space in the mid-section of Talos tower they could easily convert - the problem was finding a designer of Anton's calibre.

Edward smiled suddenly, when he realised that without Anton, Fontaine's extravagant designs may very quickly find themselves fault-ridden and their development stalled. It would be down to him and Sheridan to be ready to step back in to the frame. He was suddenly very please with himself, reclining back and kicking out his feet, grinning at the ceiling as he revised his plan.

The daze of pride was wonderful, but short-lived. Edward quickly came back down to earth, and could feel himself reverting from a strange state of delusion. As he looked again at his forward planning, he reminded himself what this was all riding on the back of - a near murder, a violent attack on an unarmed man, during which he had willingly set the man on fire. He shuddered as he remembered the screams.

The sensation of flitting between the guilt of what he had done, and the peculiar state of immunity to those emotions, gave Edward cause for concern regarding the Plasmids. Had it been that same side affect that had pushed him to set Anton on fire? An action he would have otherwise considered beyond him? One he could barely recall without bursting into tears? If that was so - perhaps these Plasmids were a danger to the public. Afterall, all Plasmids and ADAM products currently on the market were exclusively produced by Fontaine, and there was no telling what safety measures or tests had been in place before putting them on sale.

His first thoughts were to stop Sheridan now, convince him that Plasmids were dangerous, and to launch some sort of protest against their distribution. But of course any sort of protest would be up against Fontaine, and indeed anyone that stood to profit from ADAM, such as Steinman, one of the most influential men in the scientific community, or that Dr Yi Suchong chap who was working alongside Tenenbaum, but also had several other business interests, all using ADAM in their medical treatments. No, the best way to tackle the problem, may perhaps to be an encouragement of Ryan Industries development of rival products. Sheridan, Sinclair and Ryan could be relied upon to release safely tested Plasmids, afterall that was the point of the testing program they planned for Persephone inmates. If Their Plasmids could be marketed as being safer and without side affects than Fontaine's, then that would be their crowning glory!

Edward felt slightly better again. If something could be learnt and used for good after Anton's injuries, then he could live with that. At least he was pretty sure he could. He'd speak with Sheridan the moment he could. Until then, he had the Austen Bathysphere to sort out, and whilst the Bathysphere DeLuxe showroom would undoubtedly be a thorn in their side for some time, he could think of an opportunity it may well present in the near future.


	35. Chapter Thirty-Five

**El-Dorado Lounge - Ryan Amusements**

Edward was chuckling at his own story, although his disappointment at his failure with Prentice Mill was still raw.

"He threw you out?" Sheridan laughed as he poured them both another glass of Arcadia Merlot. The El Dorado Lounge was lifeless, mid-afternoon between the lunch and dinner services.

"I offered him well over what I valued it at - and even offered him a position to stay on as a paid consultant. He wouldn't hear a word of it, started bawling at me and chased me back through the door with his cane!"

"He's a stubborn old boot. At our last council meeting, Ryan did let me in on a bit of Prentice's backstory, a failed railway director ousted from his original company in the South West of England. Came down to Rapture with that jip on his shoulder still in place. The man's loaded, sits on his family fortune like a mother hen, but he can't see how his Railway is becoming obsolete. The longer he sits on it though, the cheaper he'll sell it to us in the end!" Sheridan cheered.

"If someone like your regular pain in the arse Fontaine doesn't beat us to it." Edward whined, downing his entire glass of wine. "Still - we've secured Anton's stake in the company, it's completely ours now, lock stock and barrel." Edward announced halfheartedly. "I'll need your signature on the works contract for the Austen Showroom back in the Tower - it's going to take more than we first thought, after that quote to put in the re-fuelling station you wanted on the side of the building."

"You'll have it. Then I think we should do something to take our minds off Anton and Prentice Mill for the evening." Sheridan winked - meaning that he had already planned something.

"And what do you have in mind? out with it?" Edward suspiciously pressed him,

"Well when we were snooping around Fontaine's place, I happened to clap eyes on a new little place called 'Cupids Arrow'. Word is, that it is very 'broad minded' and that it caters for everyone!" He seemed rather flushed just thinking about it.

"What do you want a dirty film for? I can put on a good enough show can't I?" Edward poked him hard, slightly taken back by this more 'cheap' side of Sheridan he wasn't quite expecting.

"Of course you do, but its not a film. They do live shows - EVE's Garden doesn't cater for us, but this place does! We can watch something...together!" Edward gave him a disapproving look, but neither could he turn down the offer out of curiosity. "Ok, we'll go. But first - get your signature on that contract!" He finished his wine and stood up. "I'm off back now, I'll see you at home first around six."

Once Edward had left, Sheridan called over the waiter. "Excuse me lad, I was wondering if you had another waiter on duty I've noticed around here. Dark hair, looked slightly pasty?" Sheridan had wanted to speak to him about anything new Tenenbaum might have tested on him. The waiter looked back at him with a sorry face.

"Oh sir, I hope you weren't too friendly with young Fred?" He asked, sadly.

"No not friendly, it's just we spoke once before and I wanted to ask him something." The waiter made the dignified effort to put down the glasses he was carrying and came over. "Sir, Fred passed away not much over a month ago. He became...well lets say he became very ill, came to a lot of harm."

"Goodness...how? Was it some sort of disease?" Sheridan asked, more disappointed that he'd lost his only mole into Fontaine Futuristics.

"No sir. He'd been taking some cash on the side to trial some new Plasmids for Fontaine Futuristics. Dangerous stuff to meddle with if you ask me. I think by the end he had about seven or eight different Plasmids pumping through him! Well - between us, I think it drove him mad. His entire personality started to change! We barely knew him at work anymore. He was so easily enraged, damn near electrocuted a whole table of people who simply complained their steaks were undercooked. We'd find him wondering around in a daze, talking to himself and bursting into random cries of gibberish. Boss was about to give him the sack, when Fred just went entirely nuts and tried to teleport himself 'back home' as he put it. Ended up re-appearing just on the other side of that glass..." The waiter gestured to the window, and the deep sea beyond it. "Drowned in seconds, poor idiot."

Sheridan thanked the waiter for his time, and began to recall Edwards account of how he'd felt the morning after the accident with Anton. They'd both mentioned at least once in the last two days how they were struggling to comprehend how easy the entire affair had been to forget, and both recalled strange feelings and mental 'abnormalities' since ingesting their first shots of ADAM. If the waiter had been carrying seven different Plasmids in his blood, then perhaps it had simply been too much for him, but whatever the reason had been - the testing in Persephone needed to start sooner rather than later.


	36. Chapter Thirty-Six

**Hepheastus Core - Office of Andrew Ryan**

"Yes!" Andrew held up the pieces of paper in his hands, and closed his eyes in sweet victory. Stanley Poole sat with a smug smile quietly across the desk.

"There's more if you need it Mr Ryan, but what you have there already, it's enough. She's been actively funding troublesome groups in Paupers Drop and throughout the city, groups that your security officers have confirmed are involved with the smuggling ring in Neptunes Bounty. She claims the funding is a form of charity to support the poor families down there, but there's no proof either to suggest the money isn't going to the smugglers. And some of the art she has down in that Park of hers, its downright incitement, as if she's designed the whole place to start an uprising against you personally."

"Calm your excitement Stanley, you've done your job, you've done it very well. Sinclair will pay you what you're due, and you get the story to print in your newspaper as soon as I've got Lamb under lock and key." Ryan was beaming, a childishly excited smile. He had already begun daydreaming about what Plasmids Sinclair may choose to test on Dr Lamb - he wondered if there was one they could name 'Bye-Bye-Bitch' in her honor.

"Persephone I understand is more or less complete, ready to recieve one of the people that instigated its very construction." He announced proudly. Stepping across his office floor with a golf club in hand, gradually positioning himself beside his little putting set.

"I will publish the story Mr Ryan, but under an alias. Lamb trusts me so much, that she's already put it to me that in her absence, she leaves me to oversee Dionysus Park. I want to see what more dirt I can dig up." He greedily rang his hands. Ryan laughed "Ha! knock yourself out. Run the place into the ground for all I care." He struck a golf ball with strength and got a hole in one. "Dr Lamb... I always win!"

**Dionysus Park - Triton Cinema**

It was around eight in the evening, during a special screening of a film co-directed by Dr Lamb. The cinema was packed, top to bottom, with some even choosing to stand along the outer walls. Dr Lamb sat in the front row, her slender legs crossed and her hands neatly positioned on her knee. She watched the film with a humble pleasure, yet her attention was never consumed by one task. When the lights suddenly came up, and an entire garrison of Ryan Security stormed the Cinema, she didn't flinch, or even move, as if she'd been waiting for it - maybe even planned it. The two closest security men roughly took her by each arm and began to march her up the aisle, all the while she was smiling.

Her supporters and followers that filled the auditorium rang out in hysterical protest, screaming and wailing, throwing their arms in the air and desperately trying to reach out and touch her. All were fought back by Ryan security, until Dr Sofia Lamb had been cuffed, chained and led to the Atlantic Express Train Station. As she crossed the platform, her smile was enhanced by the sight of Grace Holloway, quietly stood in the corner, watching with a broken heart. Yet Grace had taken her new task to that broken heart, and was tightly holding on to the hand of the tiny girl beside her. They both waved until she had boarded the carriage, which had then descended into the water.

Inside the carriage, Andrew Ryan himself had been waiting. Sullivan had ferociously protested, but Ryan had waited too long for this moment not to enjoy it, to rub Sofia Lamb's face into her failure and his victory. She hadn't reacted upon seeing him, but had quietly taken her seat between the two security guards, and politely nodded towards Ryan, who was of course wearing his widest smile yet.

"You tried to take my city from me Sofia. Don't think I didn't know the endgame you were instigating."

"Oh Andrew, I do feel sorry for you, being so entirely wrong. I have instigated nothing. You, will be the cause of your own downfall. Everything that will happen, is down to you. I simply diagnosed the sickness in your city, and tried to bring the prognosis to your attention. You chose not to heed my warnings Andrew, and it is therefore you that will pay the price in the end."

Her calm, unwavering arrogance was infuriating. He just wanted to jump on her and ring her scrawny neck like a chicken, and listen to her sqwark her last sqwark.

"Your 'flock' may not see it. But I see your scheming, I see right through you, and I need none of your psychiatrist bullshit to do so. You wanted Rapture for yourself and your diseased ideals, well I've put a stop to all of that now!" He held out a clenched fist and teased her with his bulging eyes.

"Where are we going then?" she calmly enquired.

"Somewhere you can be forgotten, Sofia. I'm locking you away where you can't do any more damage." He taunted her even more, reveling in every second of it.

"You're a tyrant Ryan, I'd love to get inside your head and start pulling some strings."

Ryan moved to sit directly in front of her. "Have you ever taken your psychiatric genius, Sofia, and turned it on yourself? I think you'd find what you discovered to be truly terrifying. You embody all of my greatest gifts you know, Sofia. You are relentless, tireless, determined and not above manipulation and exploitation to get what it is you want." Lamb twitched... she jerked her head to look directly at him with a little more alarm and aggressiveness than he'd ever see her use before.

"I preach the endeavor to better oneself, you preach the bettering of the community, of the people. But in the end, we are two people simply hell-bent on getting on what we want. Your tactics are not above mine Sofia, but at least I'm honest about mine, I don't lie to people about what I'm doing - I don't sacrifice my integrity, and slither beneath the surface like a dirty snake..."

Lamb screamed in his face, and kicked out violently! The woman reputedly incapable of exaggerated expression launched from her seat and squealed like a scalded cat into Ryan's face. "I will win! You and your city will come crashing down, and I will rise! I will watch you burn Ryan, and once I've taken your legacy from your cold, dead fingers, I will turn it on its head and turn this sunken dump into the very thing you despise the most! And my greatest pleasure - beyond the city, more than the family or even myself, will be the thought of you turning in your grave for all eternity!"

The redness in her face instantly began to subside, and she quickly sat back down, raising both cuffed hands to reposition a strand of hair that had swung loose from behind her ear. She sat back up in a neat, composed position, but did not look him the eye any longer.

Andrew Ryan now had something that he alone could treasure for all time, a perfect going away present from the Doctor. He had personally witnessed the hidden truth, the violently psychotic mind behind the perfectly crafted mask of peace and serenity that was Sofia Lamb, that he had always known was there.


	37. Chapter Thirty-Seven

**High Street**

Edwards sat at one of the small tables on the upper veranda that overlooked highstreet and the large cityscape window beyond. He held out the daily issues of the Rapture Tribune with please.

**_"FONTAINE BATHYSPHERE DUBBED DEATHTRAP - Public call for recall of affected models"_ **

"Ha ha! Perfect!" He sang to himself as he read on. It seemed severe issues with both their CO2 scrubbers that cleaned the breathable air, and also their bodged link to 'The Thinker's navigation network had resulted in five accidents already and seven deaths as a result. Of course there had been no public call as the article suggested, in fact Fontaine had done quite a good job at keeping the accidents from being public knowledge, of course until the Ryan Industries-loyal Rapture Tribune had 'stumbled' across the information. This news article would be perfectly timed to coincide with the launch of the Austen Bathysphere showroom in Talos Tower.

"Boo..." The soft, startling voice came from over his shoulder, and Edward nearly swiped his coffee from the table with his arm as he span around. Cohen.

Sander Cohen stood in an elegant silk shirt, tight black trousers and a camp shawl draped over one shoulder. His make-up was as ludicrously thick as ever. However - his features seemed different, less worn and sagging. His face seemed tighter and younger, and unless it was an impressive toupe, his hair had thickened and clawed back some of the forehead space it had once abandoned. If it wasn't for the clownish make-up, he could perhaps appear quite attractive.

"I see you admiring some minor touch-ups, courtesy of Dr Steinman, that mans a kindred spirit if I ever met one, a true artist through and through.." he seemed to loose his concentration for a moment and become lost in his own thoughts... "I wonder...perhaps Steinman could held me... take the ears off..."

Edward held his breath in awkward anticipation, before clearing his throat. "Sorry Cohen, but I must be getting along." He moved to pick up his newspaper, when Cohen held him in his seat with one hand. "Don't rush away little moth, I won't hold you up for too long. Indulge me... I wanted to beg your indulgence in turn, for I wish to offer my sincerest apologies for any discomfort you may have felt during our last artistic soiree... such intense art forms can come as something of a shock to the system for amateurs." He curled his head down and towards Edwards face, resembling a lion bearing down on its prey.

"Art form...hmm. Well, call your trade what you will Cohen, but unfortunately not all art suits everyone's pallet."

Cohen laughed an eeries laugh at the joke made with crude art references. "Oh Bravo, very good...very good." He held onto Edwards broad shoulder, caressing it slightly. "Then again, who needs to pain themselves in the pursuit of creating beauty, when one has it waiting for you at home...hmm?" his eyes rolled in every direction as he spoke.

"You mean Sheridan? I take it you're drooling over my partner? He certainly had you 'standing to attention' as you watched the whole thing that night in your dingy little club." Edward snapped, impatiently.

"Oh! Such fire, such a youthful, rebellious streak...But no I refer not to the grand Sheridan Fortesque, NO! I refer to the fortune he must enjoy having his own, sweet little puppy dog with big brown eyes waiting to jump in his lap every night..." Edward squirmed in his seat, and almost considered leaping over the balcony to escape. At least Cohen was much less visually disturbing since his genetic enhancements - even glimpsing through the unbuttoned top of his silk shirt showed his skinny, old man's chest had been filled and toned to that more suited to a dancer of the Bolshoi Ballet.

"I digress, of course. As I said, I beg many indulgences. However, it is a business arrangement I bother you about dear boy! I seek your assistance in establishing a visual feast for the public eye through which I may portray my innermost thoughts and desires upon the canvas medium..." He fluttered his eyes.

"An art show." Edward abruptly translated.

"Indeed! I have one in Fort Frolic, one here on the High Street just across the way, and recently I acquired a small space in Dionysus Park - for all the earache off Ryan it brought me. Talos Tower seems to be quite the up and coming place, and Sander Cohen is always at the forefront."

Edward couldn't deny, that despite their own experience with the man, Cohen did draw in the crowds, and had a colossal following. Many would say doing business with him was third best to a deal with Ryan or Fontaine. Cohen squeezed his shoulder again, "I would be so grateful to you, and for the chance for us, all three of us, to work closer together... I'm convinced that you have alot to give, my little moth... the mere sight of you stimulates something that I simply can't help but try and channel into my work - you're the conduit I've been looking for!"

Edward pushed Cohen's hand from his shoulder and raised his hands in a defiant stance. "Ok, Cohen, ok. Send me over a specification of the size and layout you are looking for, and I can let you know what spaces we have vacant that may be suitable for an Art Exhibit."

Cohen took a giddy step backwards. "And so, our collaboration begins, handsome. I will bring you my formal request myself... I do hope I don't catch you in a compromising situation when I do, nothing embarrassing! It would bring all sorts of memories rushing back..." He winked, purposefully to antagonise a reaction from Edward, and then swiftly made his exit.

"Fucking creep." Edward muttered under his breath.


	38. Chapter Thirty-Eight

**Persephone**

Edward and Sheridan were pleased to have a combined schedule today, and had enjoyed a pleasent pot of Tea and cream cakes in the Arcadia Tea Gardens before taking their private Bathysphere down to Persephone. Edward had only seen the outside until now, sweeping glances from the Bathysphere after work whenever Sheridan had time to give him a quick tour of the construction site.

Passing through into the huge cavern, Persephone quickly presented itself to the naked eye, and Edward was pleased it had turned out so well, it was so intimidating, as a prison should be. Unlike the decorative, elegant buildings of Rapture, Persephone was comprised of bleak, stark concrete pillars and blocks that hung from the rock above. The boldness of the load-bearing features made the windows appear small and confined, instantly giving the impression of a confined and enclosed interior. Except for the Bathysphere station, there was only one other way in and out of Persephone, a single bridge tunnel that stretched out across the great chasm beneath and entered a hole bored straight into the bedrock beyond. It had been both unfortunate and possibly convenient that the only route the pedestrian access route could take came out directly outside Fontaine Futuristics. It meant that until the time came they had to bring convicts and staff into the facility right under Fontaine's nose and somehow stop him or his staff catching on. On the other hand, if and when the time came that Sinclair would approach Fontaine with a view to selling him test space in Persephone, then they could slap on a premium price for the ease of secluded access he would benefit from.

The Bathysphere rose up and docked automatically, and both men walked straight in. Both shivered, Persephone wasn't heated to the same comfortable temperature the cities buildings were kept at, it was cold. The air smelt of cold metal and fresh grout where the floor tiles had only just been put down. The lighting came from budget overhead bulbs rather than ornamental chandeliers and wall-lights, and the walls were sparsely decorated in simple grey's. It was clear, Persephone, Rapture's newest building, the first designed and built entirely without any input from either Daniel or Simon Wales, was a new kind of beast.

"Well, it's horrid. But that deserves a congratulations to the architect I guess!" Edward observed, looking at the new desks and furniture, most not yet used.

"Its not an elegant business to be in, not by a long shot. But Sinclair doesn't seem to be phased by that, none of his businesses are what you'd call 'luxorious', except for maybe his Spirits line." Sheridan admitted, looking at the next set of signs to guide them through to the Atrium, and beyond that the Cell Blocks. "I must say, I'm looking forward to clapping eyes on Sofia Lamb, especially locked away in a small cell where she can't do any more harm. If Sinclair was to coerce anyone into being used to test an unstable Plasmid, I'd choose her..."

Edward laughed. "I can't deny the idea is tempting. But tell me you do trust Sinclair to do everything by the book, all testing is voluntary?"

Sheridan brushed the question off with little concern. "Of course! Andrew Ryan's men have already housed thirty men down here with us, and we already have twenty requests to trial Plasmids in exchange for a 30% reduction in sentence terms."

Edward felt a tingling, burning sensation in his hands as his next thought crept up on him. "And Anton?"

Just as off-put, Sheridan replied "He's still here, somewhere. Sinclair said he'd take good care of him."

They reached the atrium, and waited for Sinclair to meet them as planned. Four massive tubes ran down through the room, empty. "What are they?"

"Once we start getting our own submersibles out to gather the sea slugs, and figure out how to produce ADAM is as vast qunatities as Fontaine can, those tubes will transport it down into the inner section of Persephone, where it will supply the testing chambers.

"What the fuck is that about?" Edward shouted aloud as he turned to see the large yellow sign in the rear corner of the room. **_'Office of Dr. Sofia Lamb'_**.

"Office...?" Sheridan began to read it out, but was quickly interrupted. "Office of Dr Sofia Lamb, folks! I've put the old girl to work!" Sinclair waved his arms out in greeting and as a sign of confidence in his plan. "We've taken some of the most unstable and unruly of Rapture's inhabitants in already, and let me tell you boys, they're a handful. So hey - I figured having a bonafide Psychiatrist already on the books and not costing us a penny, was too much of a free resource to turn down! We won't test ADAM on Dr Lamb, we'll use her to chill out some of our more volatile prisoners, ready them for their time here in our care."

Sheridan was angry, wherever that woman ended up, she somehow managed to turn it around to suit her. Sinclair could see the anger on both mens faces, and quickly tried to draw attention away from Sofia Lamb's office.

"Let me show you down to the first cell block gents, I think you'll be impressed!"

The trio moved through the building to a long corridor lined with cell doors along both sides. It was perhaps the most depressing space Edward had ever been to, and he'd wondered the London Alleys after the fish market had just cleared out. It was dark for one, darker than anywhere else in Rapture, and the ceilings were much lower too - this far under the sea, it wasn't too long before even Edward and Sheridan felt the claustrophobia settling in. Sinclair, standing out amongst the gloom in his freshly pressed suit and bright white shirt, walked on down the corridor without a second thought, but the sight was new to Sheridan and Edward - the men and women they now held behind those bars, dirty and smelling - some crying, others screaming to be let out. The sound was enough to drive a man crazy.

One scream however, cut through the rest, from a large room up ahead seperate from the other cells. "Until the testing cells and laboratories are fitted out with all the equipment, we've been starting preliminary testing in here!" Sinclair boasted.

Two scientists in white lab coats left the room in something of a hurry, their gloved hands running red with fresh blood. "Now fella's, I'll extend you the decency of sayin' this chap in here is known to you both, and the sight ain't pretty. But what we're doing is for his own good in the long run, I guarantee ya!"

The door swung open automatically as they approached.

The burnt, broken remains of Anton Kinkaid were strapped to a gurney beneath a large set of overhead medical lights. He writhed in agony and yanked his arms sharply trying to free them of the straps that held him down. "Please! Please stop putting them in me!" He tried to cry out, but his words were stiffled by the gag.

"They will heal you all up, nice and better!" A scientist exclaimed, his accent foreign, European maybe. He held out a large pair of sliver tongs that held an exceptionally large sea slug specimen, that wriggled and whipped its tail in a frenzy. The doctor quickly used his free hand to yank open a large incision that he'd made into Anton's stomach, and in one sharp movement, dropped the sea slug inside. "Now, we sew you up! All better!" The surgeon exclaimed with glee.

"Jesus...Christ." Edward exhaled in disbelief. As the stench of Anton's disfigured body, and the salty pong of the large sea slug tank hit them, both gagged on it, and turned away in horror.


	39. Chapter Thirty-Nine

**Six Months later**

**Talos Tower - Austen Bathysphere Showroom**

The crowd along the giant viewing promenade was dense and silent in awe. Today had supposed to mark the grand opening of the Austen Bathysphere showroom, however the huge glass wall that Edward had installed to allow public viewing of new model demonstrations, now instead served to showcase the sudden, shocking demise of their greatest competitor. Everyone watched as the last few Bathyspheres departed the three-structured 'Fontaine's Department Store', before the building's lights were shut off, and the huge shopping mall fell into darkness.

Even Edward had given up on the opening gala's festivities to watch, and ponder on how he felt. The news had spread like wildfire on the back of the morning issue of the Rapture Tribune - " ** _Fontaine killed in shoot-out. Smuggling Enterprise exposed"_**

Several months ago, there couldn't have been any better news. This would have given him and Sheridan, through their working contracts with Sinclair and Andrew Ryan, a monopoly on the Bathysphere market, and also allowed them to aggressively expand the new Plasmid lines coming out of Persephone with little to no competition. However - for the last four months, they had achieved their goal of renting out Persephone inmates to Fontaine's scientists, most notably Tenenbaum, Suchong and Gil Alexander, turning quite the nifty little profit. Edward hope sincerely this would simply mean they had an unrivalled monopoly.

He turned away, and left his distracted audience to gossip. It wasn't a total loss - so he'd lost their attention mid-opening, at least this was now their only choice. With a flick of his finger, he set fire to his speech, and walked into the small cafe to the side of the showroom. He'd sat down before realising the waitress was one of the gawping herd at the window, so reached out towards the counter across the room, and with deep concentration, lifted the coffee pot into mid-air with his new Telekinesis power, and levitated it to his table. Ryan's marketing department advertised Telekinesis for a broad range of practical uses in the workplace, but he found its primary benefit was the accommodation of laziness - but what a selling point that was! He was suffering from more and more dizzy spells lately, and migraines too - and it only seemed to be relaxed when he'd take another shot of ADAM, or a glass of Sheridan's favorite whiskey if he wasn't looking.

He'd often found himself thinking of Anton Kinkaid too, even when he had no reason too. The man was starting to bother him, but not how he used too. The man was still alive down in Persephone, still bloody breathing, over six months after his little emotional blip, and the man was still going. He was nothing to look at, scarred, paralyzed and blind. He was also now usually covered in vomit, a hideous, glowing vomit that never quite stopped oozing from his mouth or the wound through which the slugs were implanted. Edward just wanted to forget about him now, about the whole situation with Kinkaid - they owned his company now, he was presumed missing or dead by the entire city, and no longer of any use to anyone, Edward just wished there was something that could be done, to make him go away forever. He knew it was wrong to think that way, but ever since he'd been using ADAM and Plasmids, the moral implications...thankfully, he supposed, didn't seem to affect him the same way they would have done in the past. But what use could he find for Kinkaid, surely Sinclair could come up with something? Or maybe that Suchong chap, he was apparently working on something new.

A small girl had broken away from her mother's grip out in the showroom, and board of staring at the closed Fontaine Store, had wondered into the cafe in search of cake. Edward smiled at her, innocently. "You shouldn't be wondering around on your own darling, it's not always safe. You need someone to protect you."

**Paupers Drop - Sinclair Deluxe Hotel**

Sheridan was hoping the Gala opening back at the showroom was going well - he'd been gutted that he'd had to rush away and leave Edward 'holding the baby', but this had been vital. Ryan had contacted him about taking stewardship over some of Fonatine's businesses, as a trusted Council member, until such time as they could be equitably dealt with and sold off, noteably Fontaine's 'Little Sisters Orphanage'. Sheridan had done so out of his undying devotion to impressing the big man himself, but had been quick to begin the process of selling it off - within an hour of taking stewardship in fact. Apparently, after the news of both Fontaine's death and Sheridan's acquisition of the little Sisters Orphanage, Dr Yi Suchong and Dr Brigid Tenenbaum had contacted Sinclair urgently, requesting an emergency meeting about the future of ADAM research - and this somehow involved the Little Sisters Orphanage.

They had all agreed to meet with Sinclair in his hotel, where he had been at the time dealing with an eviction. Entering the office on the top level, Sheridan had entered the room, the last to arrive, with a knot in his stomach. It would be the first time he and Tenenbaum would sit together and speak since she had deserted him years ago. She had changed slightly, of course it had been roughly a decade, a long time to avoid someone so well in such an enclosed habitat. Her face was even more drawn than before, and she had her hair up in a bun. She humbly welcomed him as he sat down. "Greetings, Herr Fortesque." He nodded back at her, "Tenenbaum."

Dr Yi Suchong was a peculiar man - they'd crossed paths socially since Sheridan had been placed on the Rapture Council, but being in such diverse fields of industry, they'd never really come as far as a discussion. "You must not sell off orphanage." He snapped, abruptly. "No good for us, no good for you." His Korean accent was very alien to Sheridan, never having traveled as far as the oriental countries.

"Now why do you say that, sport?" Sinclair seemed happy to skip the pleasantries and introductions.

"I'd speculate that neither you nor Tenenbaum here are in much a place to start barking orders at anyone, not since your boss took a bullet shower last night." Sheridan shot off a number of sparks from his finger to simulate gunfire, and smiled with a wicked pleasure directly at Tenenbaum.

"This is not the time for grudges. We have much at risk, all of us. Little Sisters have been vital to our work with ADAM at Fontaine Futuristics, and if we do not keep control of the supply, Rapture will be without ADAM in less than a month." She insisted. The mood in the room fell solemn, everyone at the mahogany table knew the implications of that last statement, and neither Sheridan or Sinclair wanted to end up being the one to tell Ryan that his Plasmid business had fallen flat on its arse because they'd accidentally plugged up the ADAM supply.

"How on earth does the orphanage have anything to do with ADAM? With Fontaine Futuristics?" Sinclair asked, intrigued.

"First, before we tell you, you promise us two things. You do not sell the orphanage, it is in the best place with Herr Fortesque. Secondly, we are as of today both employed by Ryan Industries with equal standing to that which we held under Fontaine. Agree to these terms, and you will very soon have all our work at your disposal." Tenenbaum finished her pitch with a hand slammed onto the table.

"Deal or no? Tell us now!" Suchong erupted.

"Well I can't give you a yay or nay on Ryan's behalf, you'll have to wait for that. But One way or another, we'll take you both on - right son?" Sinclair looked across as Sheridan with a twinkle in his eye and eager drive to seal the deal and catch up on years of ADAM development.

Sheridan sighed, and thought. How he wanted to drop Tenenbaum into the shit, leave her adrift and penniless. But if they didn't snap her up, someone else with deep pockets would, and Ryan would not be pleased.

"Very well. Its a deal. But before we leave this office, you tell me why you need those little girls so badly."


	40. Chapter Forty

**Fontaine Futuristics**

Sheridan walked side by side with Andrew Ryan - after years of strife, this had been his goal. Sinclair was just up ahead, Suchong, Tenenbaum and Alexander were behind, reluctantly taking their new trio of employers on a tour of the Futuristics facility, which against the advice of many advisors, Andrew Ryan had just chosen to 'nationalise', a less intimidating phrase than 'taken over, but one that still gave question to those that had believed in his philosophy of a government-free system.

As they came through to the Atrium, having completed the tour of the administration floors, Andrew Ryan suddenly slipped, his face flushing red with the humiliation. He looked down, and the floor was running with seawater. A large leak from one of the windows was raging like a river. Two or three more smaller leaks were triclling down lightly from the large overhead skylight windows.

"Wales boy's even screwed Fontaine..." Ryan grouchily declared. "With them having gone bust, we've found many parts of the city are falling behind on maintenance schedules. These leaks are getting worse - I've lost two fine suits to them..."

Edward suddenly appeared from a side corridor, and winked at Sheridan, pleased with himself. "Well it's strange you choose to mention that now, Mr Ryan. Our last stop on the tour will provide you, and Rapture, with a solution. Our fine scientists had have been working on something for Fontaine for some time..."

Suchong stepped forward quickly, keen to get his deserved share of the attention and credit from Ryan. "Tenenbaum provide the ADAM which make the human form maleable, Suchong bond body, mind and suit..." Ryan raised a curious eyebrow, "Suit?" Gil Alexander took his turn to address the great man.

"Let us follow Edward in to the Showroom. We've arranged a demonstration for you of our first line of Maintenance Worker..."

The small group proceeded into the showroom, and took a seat. A waiter stood by the small bar, and a small group of men waited on a large stage ready with large harpoons, chains and two were even charging their Electrobolt plasmids, rubbing their hands together in a blazing eruption of sparks and lightening.

Sheridan sat beside Edward, and led a hand down onto his knee. "How are you feeling my love?"

Edward looked over to the stage, knowing what - or rather who, was about to appear. "I do, I really do. This gives us closure, and it gives him a new lease of life beyond being confined to a laboratory for the rest of his days. He gets a second chance at being a pioneer!"

 _"Ladies and Gentlemen.. for your consideration, after nearly a decade of development, we offer the first in a new program of purpose-built maintenance workers. Perfect for all forms of labour required throughout Rapture - inside, and out!"_ Gil Alexander gave all the showmans patter, but Ryan sat composed and calmly, waiting for the unnecessary theatrical introduction to conclude. Finally, the large safety barrier was raised, and before the audience, stood a massive, metallic-looking monster. It's similarity to a human went only as far as it's having arms and legs, but ended there. It's 'head' that resembled more the dome headpiece of a diving suit, hung low over its chest, and pipes and framework spread from the helmet up and over onto its back. It dwarfed the men stood beside it. For a while it didn't move, and Ryan thought perhaps it was simply a suit for people to wear. Two men from off-stage however, soon appeared carrying a massive drill, clearly struggling under its weight. Two others raised the monsters right arm, and the first two staggered forward, fitting the large drill over the wrist. As if awoken by suddenly having to bear the drills weight, the monster jolted sharply, his suit clanging and rustling. A yellow glow, faint at first, began to emerge inside the helmet. Lifting the drill high by itself, the creature observed the tool through the many 'eyes' in its helmet, and let out a gruesome, slow groan.

_"Ladies and Gentleman! Behold our answer to all your skilled worker needs! Entirely adapted to withstand the crushing depths, these workers can stay outside for hours at a time, climb to any height, sink to almost any depth! Programmed from their conception to seek out any structural weakness or damage, they require no upkeep, and will have our great city watertight again in a few short months!"_

Ryan turned to the scientists either side of him in the audience, and applauded them. "Oh my friends, you have excelled yourselves indeed!" He looked back at the metal man on stage. "You'll fix our city with this stroke of genius, and we'll all earn well from the subscriptions to this service we will sell all the cities property owners." Ryan rose from his seat, and against the soft objections from Tenenbaum, he crossed across onto the stage, and walked right up to the beast, fearless.

"Who is inside?" He enquired. "They should be congratulated too when they take all of this off..."

Suchong held no reservations about his design, or its implications, and very matter-of-factly, expained. "They don't come out of suit. Once men undergo procedure, they are grafted into suit permanently. Mentally conditioned to handle suit and instructions." Ryan suddenly seemed slightly less enthusiastic, his eyebrows raised and jaw dropped. He looked back at the beast before him. "Good god... so... you're taking people from Persephone aren't you..." He figured it out quickly.

Edward dropped his head, slightly ashamed. "We do, absolutely." Tenenbaum replied, without a shred of shame. "The ones who are beyond correction and show no practical benefit to our ongoing research, are selected and relocated to the large labs under this building."

Edward looked up, and looked into those glowing holes in the beasts helmet. He wanted to express some remorse for everything they had done to Anton Kinkaid including grafting his flailed innards to that suit for life, but when he turned to Sheridan, he was smiling and clapping, letting off electrical fireworks in celebration from his palms, clearly having dosed up with ADAM as much as possible in anticipation of the successful demonstration. Didn't stop him from looking very tired though, and slightly unwell - the skin around his eyes seemed to be sagging slightly, and his right temple slightly swollen.


	41. Chapter Forty-One

**Paupers Drop**

Sheridan felt very uncomfortable, as if there was filth in the very air that would cake his skin and fresh suit. Men and women walked past, who wore clothes that had clearly once been fairly grand, nobody wore anything that was evidently cheap from the start. Although dirty and damaged, everyone seemed to be struggling to keep up appearances and a standard of living they had once been accustomed too, but the vain effort simply made them all the more pitiful. Paupers Drop - one of the only places in Rapture that never got a mention in the endless propoganda that circulated all mediums of advertisement, had become the taboo topic in many of Sheridan's social circles lately - women eagerly spreading the dirt on one of their own whose husband had gone bankrupt or been accused of something distasteful, and had lost their swanky home in Olympus Heights or Athena's Glory, and been resigned to seeking digs in 'the Drop'.

Sheridan moved with haste, not feeling entirely safe on his own down here. He would consider employing a bodyguard on his next visit. Suddenly, a tremendous thumping came from the ground, and everybody close to him froze. The thuds were slow and spaced apart, and he thought perhaps a pump or pipe beneath the floor had jammed and was fighting to clear itself. The groan that followed soon though, was all too recognizable, and he relaxed. The public around his did not relax however, stunned and terrified by the giant suited-figure that came stomping around the corner of the Fishbowl Diner. He was still pouring water, having just come in through an airlock, and had strands of seaweed dangling from every extremity. He groaned again. Sheridan wondered which it was - Sinclair had produced nearly ten of the original model now down at the new facility in Point Prometheus, with development of newer, more agile models continuing in the Fontaine Futuristics Laboratories. The huge metal man was carrying a man under one arm - a limp, sodden corpse. That explained his current mission then - Suchong had developed a trigger in their programming, that instructed them to transport any corpses that had ingested ADAM products straight to the labs for ADAM extraction. "Cannot waste such valuable resource" the Korean had said.

Sheridan took a left, and walked down through into the tunnels that connected to the Sinclair Deluxe. He clutched the address Sinclair had given him openly in his hand, too nervous to even put it away in his pocket. As a friendly gesture, from one businessman to his lucrative partner, Augustus had let Sheridan know that his elusive mother, Amelia, had been sighted not just around Paupers Drop, but specifically in his own hotel. Word was that she was squatting in the upper Penthouse apartment, along with the intended tenant, Grace Holloway. The news had hit Sheridan hard. He'd felt guilty that he hadn't pursued his mother with more fervour, but his busy schedule and her determination to keep her distance had stalled his progress. He'd known that much of her money had gone into that blasted 'Dionysus Park', but he had hoped the agreement had landed her with new, equally comfortable living quarters and that she had maintained enough to sense to ensure she got a suitable return from her investment in the place. So when he'd heard that she was actually homeless, he had instantly cleared his diary for the afternoon, and gotten himself down to the Sinclair Deluxe.

Sinclair was always good at marketing, it had been evident when they'd started collaborating on Plasmid development, but however he had advertised the Deluxe as 'Classy, High Living' was nothing but a man-made miracle. Sheridan could see how he'd tried to decorate the place to mimmick a posh hotel, with classy wallpaper (well, a budget imitation of classy wallpaper), clean wooden and tiled flooring (avoiding the need for carpet) and strategically placed lighting. Still, it smelt of grease and oil, and the air was musty, indicating the air filters were running on the lowest setting to keep the electricity bills down. He explored the long, narrow hallways until he had climbed through to the top floor, where penthouse 307 clearly marked 'G. Holloway' finally came into view. He straightened his jacket and swept a hand through his blonde hair to pull it back, before knocking firmly.

The grey, cheap door opened a fraction, and it took Sheridan a second to realize that it had not opened by itself, but that a small girl had opened it, whom he had to crouch down to greet. "Good afternoon young lady, whats your name?"

She giggled and shyly crossed her arms out in front of her. "Hello... I'm Eleanor!" She seemed very excited to introduce herself. She wore a beige dress, with a small apron tied around her waist.

"Hello Eleanor, enchanted to make your acquaintance. My name is Sheridan - is anyone at home with you?"

The young girl opened her mouth to spill all, when a shout came from a room further into the apartment. "Eleanor, get away from the door honey! You know you ain't s'posed to answer the door. Your mamma would kill me..." A spritely, slender woman of apparent African-american descent rushed into view and quickly took hold of the little girl by her waist, drawing her away from the door and out of sight.

"Sorry sir, don't mean to be rude, but the little darling hasn't been well lately. Now, what can I be doing for you?" She seemed flustered, nervous, but perfectly polite. "You sellin' somethin' or what?"

Sheridan cleared a tickled in his throat. "No madam, my name is Sheridan Fortesque. I'm looking for Lady Amelia, and was told I might find her here?" He smiled, but it was met with a stern look back.

"I have no quarrel per say with you sir, but I know you hurt Amelia good and proper. Normally I'd have you hot-footin' outta here with your tail between your legs." She cut herself off, and quickly looked around outside to check for anyone within earshot. "But, Amelia is a good friend of mine, and I know she could certainly use a helpin' hand. She hasn't been well lately, been cryin' alot." Sheridan gulped, and grew frustrated both at himself, and at his mother for not swallowing her pride and coming to him.

"Crying? Is it really that bad?"

"Afraid so. She's lost all her money, has nothing. I helped her sell off most of her wardrobe and jewellery down the market in Skid Row last Tuesday, old girl needed to eat something. Anyway, she ain't here anymore. I offered her a bed, but I'm sure you know she's a proud lady, and she took off two days ago. Said something about trying her luck with Stanley Poole about getting back some of her money from Dionysus Park - seems Poole has enough money to throw all manner of wild parties down there since Dr Lamb was taken away, she thought surely he can afford some for the benefactor of that park." Sheridan would try the park now, a rush of alarm in his chest to find his mother soon.

"Miss Holloway, thank you for your help. I must go and find her..." He stepped away instantly, but wanted to make sure she accepted his thanks.

"Of course, go, go. Try and mend whatever went wrong between you both - she misses you more than she'd ever admit."

Breathing heavily, angry with himself and desperate to reach Amelia, he took off. The elevator was broken, which meant finding his way back through the labyrinth that made up the Sinclair Deluxe. Almost running, he turned corner after corner, and skipped steps as he flew down a staircase to the second floor.

"Hold it buster!" A middle-aged woman leapt out in his path from an apartment door, and stood wide across the corridor. She held a fishook in one hand, and her purse in the other. Her dress was pretty polka-dot, but torn and damp. Her face was distorted horribly, her eyes askew and cloudy, her nose twisted and lips swollen.

"Sweet fuck..." Sheridan gasped as he looked upon her gruesome face, and was struck by her strong bodily odor.

"Empty those deep pockets sweetheart, come along..." She swung the fishhook out at him. He swore and flared his nostrils angrily as he tried to push his way past her, "oh just fuck off!" he spat at her. She swung her hook again and caught his sleeve.

"You crazy bitch!" He threw his whole weight at her through his out-stretched arms, and slammed her against the wall which creaked and buckled, cheaply built of course. She didn't seem to feel the impact, but screamed insanely and charged at him. "I need ADAM you fuck!"

Something deep inside his mind began to swirl and surge like a maelstrom, and he began to feel quite drunk. As if on auto-pilot, he held up a hand and pulsed a wave of 'Electrobolt' into the woman's face. "Eat that!" He growled, snarling with impatient rage as he pushed harder and harder, letting out a stronger and stronger charge. Her eye's exploded, flames burst from her nose and ears, and her electrocuted body collapsed onto the floor.

Struggling for breath, deafened by his pounding heart, Sheridan threw a hand over his gaping mouth in shock at what he had done, before quickly running away down the hall towards the atrium, quick to abandon the scene before he could be tied to it.


	42. Chapter Forty-Two

**Inner Persephone**

Edward sat with Sinclair and Warden Nigel Weir.

"It's been a great success all told gents. Dr Lamb's a wonder, and I don't mind saying it aloud. She's calmed the heard down here, helped so many of us... of them I mean, see the error in their ways." He was a large, bulldozer of a man, but he seemed more like a pussycat as he brought up Sofia Lamb.

"That's all very well Nigel, but she's also a prisoner here herself, I hope you keep that in mind." Edward sternly put across, still wishing they'd insisted at the very beginning she be pushed into the testing programmes, rather than set up with a therapeutic practise that probably rivalled any legitimate one she could have had up on the surface. He even wished she could have been shredded and spliced into one of the first maintenance worker models, her muscles grafted into one of those foul-smelling suits.

"Well we'll leave you to your rounds for now Warden, take it easy." Sinclair slapped Edward on the back and said, "Let's take a stroll ourselves son."

They were no more than six feet out of Nigel Weir's office, before Sinclair began to whisper into Edwards ear. "Something's amiss son, take my word. He's been acting real strange lately, and I don't trust him anymore. I'll see to it he's replaced soon enough, but in the mean time, I've already been shipping out much of our research equipment and high-profile test subjects to Point Prometheus - I'm just not comfortable with it down here anymore."

"Dr Lamb's gotten to him, somehow. It's written all over his stupid, euphoric face. Probably spends half his lunch break in the lavy with her picture..." Edward agreed. "I think we need to restrict access now between Persephone and Fontaine Futuristics. Seal the tunnels until we've figured out whats going on with Wier."

The alarms rang out all of a sudden, piercing, screaming klaxons and red lights began to flash. "What on earth?" Sinclair cried out.

 _"This is Dr Lamb, with a message for the people..."_ The tannoy crackled to life.

"Oh shit..." Edward grasped Sinclairs arm in dread, stopping him from moving any further until they knew more.

_"Our brother in arms, Nigel Weir, has alerted us to an opportunity. He stands with us now, and is about to release all locking mechanisms and bulkhead doors through the facility. Rise up, my family, rise up and let us free ourselves from this unjust oppression by an unjust tyrant!"_

Instantly, the sound of a thousand bolts, pressure-locks and Securis doors releasing was like the rush of a tsunami, down every corridor.

_"Clear my path, dear family, and I will lead us to redemption..."_

"Shit... lets bail!" Sinclair shouted, and both men began to run fast. They had only been a few minutes from the Atrium that separated the Cell Blocks from outer Persephone, and reached it in a few sprints with all the doors open already. They had just passed between the massive, crimson-glowing ADAM ducts, when four enormous men stepped out and swung punches at them, knocking them both off their feet on the first go. Edward quickly rolled over, and managed to let off a huge burst of 'Incinerate' from his left hand, giving one of the brutes a mouthful of flames. Howling in agony he took off, but the other three quickly swung a punch each at Edward, and one possessing 'Winter blast', was quick to create two large blocks of ice that pinned Edwards arms down and froze them solid. He could no longer feel them, let alone summon a flame.

Confident that the two captives were secured, the large thugs took a few steps back, and all looked towards the corner of the Atrium, where in the doorway, stood Dr Lamb. She stood so sweetly, innocently and respectfully, which in itself was all the more infuriating to Edward, that such a power hungry, psychotic bitch could carry off such a facade and wield it as a means of building an army from the weak and insecure.

"Gentlemen, please forgive the deception on the Wardens part. I don't encourage any act of dishonesty. But you, along with Ryan, left me little choice. I love the people of Rapture, and I will do anything to give them a chance to save themselves, to turn to the new 'Rapture Family' ideal and learn the true way mankind was supposed to live."

Gunshots began to sound from behind them, deeper back inside Persephone. Shouts and screams from the prison medical staff and the unwitting security staff that obviously hadn't been part of the Wardens treachery, were being gunned down and wiped out in what sounded like a planned extermination.

"Lamb, I didn't do this to you. Ryan sent you down here - he wanted you chained up in a cell. But I gave you freedom, I gave you comfort!" Sinclair was almost pleading, sensing this could very well be his end. Sofia Lamb approached him.

"Augustus - I never asked you for those things. I would have taken my place with my family in one of your prison cells without protest. You set me up where you saw the most profit, don't try and turn it into anything other than that." She held her dainty hand out to one of the large men that guarded the two prisoners, and asked for his gun. She took it by the grip, and aimed the barrel at Edward.

You... you have been a particularly interesting one to observe, Mr Carson. You should have been one to immediately understand my teachings, you came from nothing, from poverty - you were down trodden by the likes of Sinclair and Ryan. Yet, I've watched as your sinful companionship with Fortesque has warped your priorities and turned you into as much of a materialistic brute as all the others. You've even killed now, to get what you want..."

Edward said nothing, her words were painful to listen to, as they were intended to be, but he kept reminding himself over and over that was her intention, to get inside his head. "I thought once that perhaps you could still be saved... if I gave you the choice now, to go free and in exchange for your freedom, kill the man you profess to love, you would have proven to me that you were still in possession of a worthy soul, a moral compass..." She tilted her head and looked him in the eye.

"You could help me begin the cleansing of Rapture... and be cleansed yourself through the act itself..."

Edward was about to advise Dr Lamb where she could stick her offer, sideways, when the side entrance to the Atrium was blown open by an RPG. The debris and smoke spread outwards, and a large number of Ryan Security personnel began to flood in. Dr Lamb ran, quickly disappearing through the bulkhead into the dark depths of Persephone. Barely a minute after she had, a seething crowd of released prisoners came streaming the other way, ready to fight for their freedom... hundreds of them.


	43. Chapter Forty-Three

**Dionysus Park**

The Atlantic Express Train rolled into the station, and Sheridan was quick to leap out onto the platform and jog down the steps and into the Gallery Entrance. Loud, flamboyant music could be heard from within, and everyone was dressed up to the nines in evening wear. His mind was racing, panicking in two different directions at once. His first concern was reaching his mother, finding her and getting to the bottom once and for all what had gone down between her and that bitch Dr Lamb - thank god she was at least locked up down in Persephone now. His second was a dreadful concern about the woman he had just burnt to death in the Sinclair Deluxe hotel with his 'Electrobolt' - he was fairly sure he hadn't been seen, but people were sure to have heard her blood-curdling cries as she'd died in such horrific agony. His anger and anxiety was blinding his clear vision, and all he wanted to do was stop and scream at the top of his lungs, he wanted to curse and accuse, blast his Plasmid powers in every direction and wipe the stupid smiles off half of the preening morons that were milling around him in Dionysus Park - idiotic admirers of Sofia Lamb who deserved no more than a good 'jolt' to the system.

Furthermore, as he looked at the numerous couples leisurely strolling into the different exhibitions and entertainmetn facilities of Dionysus Park, Sheridan wondered how on earth he would explain to his beloved Edward that he had murdered somebody - again. Edward had already been expressing some reservations about their growing dependency on Plasmids and ADAM, and he knew he blamed Anton's fate on their inability to entirely control it.

He peered around every corner, jumping from the Piano Bar, to the Fischer Gallery, the Carousel... the crowds made it all the harder to see if Amelia was among them. The music, "Lets Misbehave" playing throughout the Park was loud and made shouting or calling out a name useless.

Wheezing and feeling rather unwell, Sheridan came to a weary halt by the bar, and leant up against it. "Brandy..." He clicked his fingers at the bar tender, who wore a pretty, unique butterfly pin on his lapel. "And if you've got a supply back there, a shot of ADAM wouldn't go amiss..." He held a hand over his face and wiped off some perseperation. He was feeling dizzy and swooning, he needed a top-up just to help him find his mother. After that, he'd cut down on ADAM, keep Edward happy and make sure nobody else could fall victim to it - at least not by his hand.

The smiling bar tender handed him both his glass and a small syringe of glowing red ADAM. He poured the Brandy into his mouth in one go, and waited for the warming, dulling affects to sink in before he pulled up his sleeve, revealing a bruised, pierced wrist where he would usually jab the syringes, and dug the needle in.

He smiled, and let out a slow, relaxed breath as the fluid combined with his blood and raced though his veins. In a euphoric, melancholy state, he resumed his search. The one final place he hadn't visited, simply because it boasted Lamb's name in such bold letters over the door, was 'Lamb's Garden'. He looked up at the gold lettering, and remembered the adverts that named Lamb's Garden as her answer to Ryan's Arcadia, and his mother had always loved Arcadia.

Inside the garden, it was much quieter, beautifully calm. The walls seemed to have been lined to make the gardens sound-proof. He was met with the soothing trickle of the artificial streams, and concealed fans simulated wind passing through the tree's, rustling their bushy branches. Sure enough, sat on a small bench beside a bed of white roses, was Amelia. Sheridan stopped to look at her before announcing himself. She looked tired, withered. She sat hunched over, her arms limp at her sides, staring vacantly into the stream. She wore what had been her favourite ball down, yet it now looked as though it was probably her _only_ gowm. It was filthy, the lace torn loose and the silk freyed. Her hair fell messily down to her shoulders, and she'd tried to perch a small tiara on her head, but it sat at a lazy angle. Lady Amelia had always been very proud of her appearence, and had spent thousands on imported skincare and beauty products from central Europe, but today, her skin was dry, pale and wrinkly. She had no make-up on, except for some old mascara that had run down her cheeks with her tears.

"Mother..." He was careful not to speak too loud, to startle her or sound aggressive. He spoke softly and with humility. She slowly turned to look up at him, and with a degree of inner pain, she longingly looked directly into his eyes.

"Oh my son, Sheridan..." She gestured for him to sit beside her. He quickly did so, and put an affectionate arm around her, surprised by but not mentioning the stale smell from her clothes.

"Son... I've really let us all down. I've really, really messed up." She nearly began to cry, her bottom lip trembling.

"What on earth has been happening? You should have come to me..." He held her even tighter.

"It's all gone, all the money. She took every penny. For a lady with higher values than wealth, she certainly gets through a lot of it..." Amelia looked back down into the stream. "I bought this place for her, for my friend... or so I thought. I designed this very garden myself you know, ironic that I was so willing in increasing my own costs, digging my own grave with such delight..."

Sheridan knew how many millions his mother had once held in her personal accounts in the Rapture banks, and couldn't fathom what Sofia Lamb could have done with it _all_ , but that was clearly the case.

"She told me it was all to fit out this great Park, to build something special. But I know now, she was giving it away down in Paupers Drop, in the Mason's Quarter... she was making herself into a regular Robin Hood among the paupers down there... buying their loyalty..." She covered her face i despair.

"Almost as if... buying an army..." Sheridan considered, "A family, she called it. She was building a ' _family'_ " Amelia corrected him.

"You know... I understand I hurt you, and in hindsight perhaps I didn't go about anything the right way. I'm not saying 'I told you so', but whatever you may feel about it, me and Edward would never have treated you like this..." He looked away from her, so that his next statement would be theoretical and not a personal attack, "Why did you have to be so stubborn, so short sighted? It cost you everything, more than just the money..."

Amelia took her sons hand. "Because I was a fool. A fool to hold a false god in higher regard than my family... to hold my social standing above my family. I now have neither... I'm a nobody, squatting where I can. And as for God, he's abandoned us all down here... if he's there at all..." She dropped her head onto Sheridan's shoulder. "I am sorry my son. I offer my apologies, and my blessing to you i whatever you do... but I'm not sure I can join you for it anymore, I feel broken beyond repair, and I don't have any wish to fix it anymore..." She held his hand and relaxed.

They sat together for an hour, listening both to the trickling of the water, and also faintly the music from outside that was wafting through the open doorway. Neither said a word, because all that could now be said had been, and neither really knew what could happen next. It was then, at the quietest, most connected moment mother and Son had experienced in over a decade, that Edward came bursting into Lamb's Garden. He was soiled, dirt and sweat covering his face, a nasty cut and stream of blood across his cheek. His arms, the sleeves of his jacket torn away, were a deep, cold purple and badly bruised.

"Sheridan! We have serious trouble!" He cried out across the quiet room, entirely unaware of the serene silence it was enjoying. "She's taken Persephone! Lamb has killed everyone down there not loyal to her... we barely got out alive!" He was shaking, and crossed his quivering arms across his chest trying to warm them up. "Ryan sent in his men, tried to fight the prisoners back - but that greedy arse Sinclair had taken on too many inmates for them to subdue - they were defeated in minutes!"

Sheridan leapt onto his feet, and began to jog across to comfort his lover. "My god Sheridan, she's going to do it... she's going to take the city eventually." Amelia gasped, admitting her guilty part in it all to herself.

"No, she's trapped down there. She may have control of the prison but she can go nowhere else, for now." Sheridan said, partly as a question to Edward, who nodded but without certainty.

"I'm sorry... I really am. I helped this happen. I'm sorry, to _both of you."_ Amelia hauled her weary body from the bench, and held out her arms inviting them both to embrace her.

Suddenly the lights flickered, the music stopped abruptly as if the record had been snatched from beneath the needle, and the screams began. A powerful rush of wind preceded the roaring water that began to flood up from the basement like an explosive Tsunami...


	44. Chapter Forty-Four

**Dionysus Park**

The water was freezing, icy cold, and it had such strength and power behind it, ripping doors from hinges, upturning mahogany tables and scattering sculptures and furniture into the air as it ripped through room after room. The torrent engulfed the carousel and pulled the party-goers from their horses, swamping and drowning them with the speed and ferocity of a jungle predator.

Crowds of men and women fought each other, desperately, violently, to reach high ground, stampeding each other on the stairs of the Triton Cinema trying to reach the balcony, or whilst desperately trying to reach the Atlantic Express Station. Many were held under the crushing feet of the crowd as the water buried them.

Sheridan, Edward and Amelia had barely made it out of Lamb's Garden, before pillars of raging water had erupted up through the drains, blasting off the covers and bending back pipework. The water tore through the gardens with force enough to drag the tree's from their roots, rip out pillars, and bring ceilings crashing down, forever cutting off all but the entrance to Lamb's Garden from the rest of the park.

"Oh my god Sheridan... how do we escape this?" Edward shrieked as the frothing water swirled around his legs and rose to his waist in seconds. "We're going to drown!" Already, bodies were riding the waves, with faces of sheer terror frozen in time. The lights began to spark and flicker more ferociously, in danger of their circuits being entirely water-logged and failing all together. The trio took each others hands for support against the raging tide, and fought out into the waters, crossing the Entrance Gallery. Screams and shouts for help came from every doorway they passed, people that had trapped themselves on higher floors or in locked rooms, now with nowhere to run. As the initial eruption of seawater began to momentarily subside as it spread itself thin across the floorspace of Dionysus Park, the three took the chance to race for the Train station. Edward and Sheridan took Amelia's arms from either side, and dragged the old woman faster than she could run on her own, pulling her weight through the water, all the while dodging debris, falling masonry, panicking people begging for help or racing to push past, desperate to reach their loved ones.

Sheridan had the doorway open to the grand enterance staircase, which hadn't yet flooded, only his opening the door let in the first of the seawater. Their feet free of the cold water, they ran as fast as they could. Behind them again, there was a deafening 'boom' that shook the ground beneath them, as the rising water pressed against the air pockets caught throughout the park, until ceilings and windows began exploding under the immense pressure. The further collapses of Dionysus Park released a second, even greater wall of water, that wiped out the last of the struggling survivors. It decimated the park, and with nowhere else to go, began chasing down the tunnels, and pushed through the doors down towards the station.

Amelia was struggling, gasping for breath and crying aloud at the pain in her weak, fragile legs, she hadn't run in years. "Sheridan I can't, I can't!" She begged, but without entering an argument, he and his lover continued to force her further. The final bulkhead, finally, was in sight. The door was open, stuck open, damaged by the first people to panic and push to escape.

The three stood in the doorway and stared at an empty station - no train. "Where do we go now?" Edward shouted above the roar of the water as the waterfall down the stairs behind them grew stronger and stronger. Already all but the raised platform was knee-deep.

The station then shook, trembling and groaning, releasing clouds of dust and leaking water from the windows above as it's pressure became de-stabilised by the giant Atlantic Express Tunnel doors opening - an unsuspecting driver was pulling his coach into the station with the next arrival of party-goers. As the coach rose up out of the water, they could see the drivers face of horror as he saw the white, frothing water erupting through the entrance doors.

"Help us! Stop!" Sheridan shouted, and for a moment let go of his mothers hand and left her with Edward, as he ran through the water to the platform, climbing up the steps on his hands and knees, his feet slipping on the wet tile floor. "Stop!"

The carriage came to a sudden stop, but began to shake as the collapsing station made its rail wobble. The driver quickly opened his cab doors only, and stuck his head out. "Come on! Hurry! I'm only waiting for you a second longer!"

Sheridan turned to the others, who were struggling to keep up. "He's about to leave, hurry!" He held out his arms as if they would be able to reach him from across the room. Amelia slipped.

She sank beneath the surface.

"Amelia!" Edward shouted, stopping in his tracks and searching behind him, throwing his hands down into the water. It was getting dangerously deep, it was rising up and over his chest. An arm appeared for a split second, reaching out in a panic, before landing back down beneath the water again.

"I can't get to her!" Edward screamed, looking up to Sheridan on the platform.

"She must be right there! She's fallen..." Sheridan bellowed back, starting back down the steps into the deeper water.

"Hey! I'm not waiting, get in or I'm going!" The Atlantic Express driver called out, his hand already on the lever that would close the door and start the Train carriage rolling on out of the station. Edward heard him, and petrified beyond comprehension, pushed on and up the steps, freeing himself from the freezing water.

"We can't leave her!" Sheridan grabbed Edward by the arm, holding him from reaching the train.

"She's gone! I can't find her!" Edward screamed, pulling towards the open door. "No!" Sheridan growled back, "No!"

"Come on!" Edward mustered the last of his strength, drained by the cold of the water, and yanked on Sheridan's arm, dragging him screaming in despair into the drivers compartment of the carriage.

"Fucking idiots, you nearly drowned!" The driver spat as he pulled down on the lever and sealed the carriage shut. The motors that drove the wheels overhead came to live, and began to spin. It was as the carriage began forward again, that the final, catastrophic body of seawater came down through the doors of Dionysus Park and into the station. Amelia frantically rose up and out of the water, heaving, , crying in fear, gasping for air as she pulled her body up and out of the water with her arms.

"Mother!" Sheridan thrust himself against the glass and screamed for her to reach them. She barely had time to look up at them, the boys safe in the watertight train car, before the water came down onto of her, and drowned her.


	45. Chapter Forty-Five

**Hepheastus Core - Office of Andrew Ryan**

"Well nobody could say you've had a quiet day..." Ryan looked down upon Edward, who was sprawled across the office floor, his back up against the glass wall that overlooked the lobby outside the office. He was sodden, battered, cut and exhausted. Ryan stood tall, his suit immaculate and his hair neatly swept back. "Escaping Persephone when not one of my men did... then getting yourself half-drowned in Dionysus Park. I expect you're coming to hate Sofia Lamb nearly as much as me..."

"More than you know..." Edward frowned. Ryan smiled for the first time.

"I'd been on my way to dinner with Diane, but this will have to have my undivided attention. Please get a message to her for me, before she heads out to Demeters." Ryan passed the instructions to Sullivan, who nodded in understanding and left.

Sheridan was sat beside Edward, equally as sorry looking, still dripping wet, his head hanging deep, almost in his lap. Sinclair had already been with Ryan, and had to break the news about Lamb's break-out on his own.

"Well gentleman, I think we can say that today has been one fucking cock-up after another, wouldn't you?" He was angry, and began to pace back and forth.

"I will not lament the loss of Dionysus Park, that place housed as many parasites as a stray dogs back. There will be an investigation of course, but we can see to it that any findings work to our advantage, drag Lambs name through the dirt where it belongs." He spat at the thought of her.

"But loosing Persephone... this is a major issue, for the whole city. If word spreads that she has the support of an army down in that filthy hole, her followers that still roam free will be unstoppable, they'll be spreading her shitty ideals like wildfire, and trust me gentleman - Rapture will burn."

Edward looked up at Sinclair, then Ryan. "Well... what about the drop mechanism?" He coughed. Sinclair winced at the thought of the financial loss, clearly not keen on the idea. "That was a marketing tool son... never intended for it to be used real-life" He interjected.

"But it works?" Edward persisted.

"Yeah sure it works, couple of charges strategically placed, all the load bearing beams go and the whole place crumbled into the abyss."

"Taking Dr Lamb with it..." Ryan pondered the option.

"Now hold hard gents, there's a spanner in the works I'm afraid." Sinclair held up hands to stall the acceleration of the conversation. "The charges have to be set, and the control system for the charges, its all down there too - the Warden will have seen to it that its well guarded, if not destroyed. I say we leave the bitch down there to rot. She can't leave, there's nothing of value down there anymore - I had all the ADAM and equipment shipped over to Point Prometheus. They'll be eating each other down there within a month - just wait, Persephone will come back to us on her own in the end."

Ryan chuckled, but could see Sinclair's point. " _Lamb_ chops, my kind of menu." He picked up his golf club again, but only to hold it and twirl it in his hand like some over-sized executive toy.

"Honestly... first Fontaine, now Lamb. At least we're making some headway, one dead, one stuck in her own prison. But it's still inconvenient about Persephone, I'd just had my men round up hundreds of Fontaine's old goons down at Neptune's Bounty and in Pauper's Drop. They were due to be shipped over to you tonight." He pointed to Sinclair.

"Equally a pain the neck for me chief, I had a bucket of cash tied up down there."

"I'll have to think of somewhere else to dump the garbage now... somewhere evidently requiring even more isolation that Persephone..." Ryan pondered. He looked down at his desk, and his eyes wondered to the binder holding the blueprints Daniel Wales had given him of Fontaine's Department Store. As the cogs in his mind began to turn, he looked over to his guests.

"Well you gentleman run along, get yourselves cleaned up, and a stiff drink wouldn't be a bad idea." He dismissed them with a quick wave of his hand.

Edward shook the silent Sheridan by the shoulder, and helped him to his feet. "Come, lets get ourselves home."

Sheridan looked up at him, and started to cry as they walked out of the office.


	46. Chapter Forty-Six

**Poseidon Plaza - December 1958**

"I was all for Ryan sinking Fontaine's store, especially when it gave us the monopoly back on the Bathysphere's. God knows it was healthy for our bottom line, but I do fear that nowhere will soon rival it for its shopping - even when we open the new retail floor in Talos Tower, we'd have a long way to go to match it. But this is just shit..." Edward held out his hand, and using Teleport, sent a used drink bottle through the air and into a trash can. He looked around Poseidon Plaza, and couldn't think of anywhere here he could find a decent christmas present for Sheridan.

Christmas in Rapture had always been a tricky topic, because Ryan had forbidden any religious festivals, yet anyone with a brain in the retail trade new what a prime opportunity Christmas was for bumper sales. Christmas had therefore been maintained, but as a winter festival, entirely built on the premise of congratulating oneself and your family for a prosperous year.

"Come, let's try Market Street." Edward Pulled Sheridan by the arm and spinning him about. Sheridan grunted, and bid as he was told. He was looking truly terrible - it had been months now since Amelia had died, but the affects had only worsened. Their relationship had become plutonic almost overnight, and any thoughts of outward affection were long gone, but how could Edward think to complain? Sheridan's issue with his face had also grown worse, to the point Edward was recommending they take him to Dr Steinman early in the new year. The swelling on his temple had grown to a large deformity almost, and his eyes were dark, his jaw slightly crooked, but he insisted it caused him no pain or discomfort. Edward had also noticed some similar issues on other's around the city, and was growing curious. Hell, since he'd ingested Telekinesis, Winter Blast and Security Command ( a must after his close-call down in Persephone) he'd notice some of his own irregularities in his skin and down one arm.

"Oh my darlings!" The voice coo'd over the crowd, and an arm fell over their respective shoulders. Cohen. Edward jumped at first, then turned to face him.

"Good afternoon Sander, how are you?" He cautiously asked, tired of the man but recently reassured by the trade his art exhibit in Talos Tower had been bringing in.

"Oh I'm just divine, divine! Had a little... late-night picnic in Arcadia with the boys last night, it was quite the adventure..." he giggled, and swooned closer to their faces. "I'm putting together another show soon, something entirely new. I was forced to gestate for a while after I lost some of my finest work down in Lamb's sunken parlour..."

Sheridan cast him a wary glare. "Oh, my dearest I must beg your pardon. I didn't mean to be so heartless, can you ever forgive me?" He took Sheridans hand, curtseyed and kissed its top side in a ludicrous gesture.

"What do you want from us Sander? Investment?" Edward enjoyed speaking as bluntly and straight-forward as he could around Cohen, the old fool never said it, but he could tell it antagonized him intensely.

"It's all alot more involved than that, dull details need to be discussed - why don't you swing down a floor to my apartment sometime, and we can... chew it over with some wine in more comfortable surroundings..." his sentence turned into a hiss through clenched teeth. "Until then! My dear friends..." he grew so close to Edward that their cheeks brushed together, before finally leaving towards Fleet Hall.

"Excuse me Mr!" A sweet, small voice called up from beneath them, and both looked to see a small, pale girl brushing between their legs. Her eyes were as they'd come to expect, large, vacant and starting to develop a yellowish blemish so luminescent they appeared as if they were glowing. She carried her special syringe that Suchong had just developed especially. "At least they're finally out and doing their damn job..." Sheridan murmured grumpily, slurring his words again having been revisiting his old friend the liquor cabinet.

"I signed up to the ADAM programme, and the Plasmids, which I still probably wrestle with in my mind on a daily basis, but those little girls - I'm not sure I'll ever be comfortable with our supplying them to Suchong for his experiments. I mean... look at them. Wandering around with one of those fucking slugs sewn up inside her - just like Kinkaid." Edward complained.

"You weren't moaning when it all paid for us to knock through and extend the apartment, or when you bought an entire vintage from Worley Winery with the cash from Suchong's cheque book." Sheridan snapped. "They're earning their place in the city, just like everyone else".


	47. Chapter Forty-Seven

**Point Prometheus**

Dr Yi Suchong stood proudly over the examination table, with the little girl laid out on the table. Sheridan, Edward, Ryan and Sinclair stood around her. Tenenbaum was there too, but her enthusiasm seemed to be seriously lacking lately - something otherwise unheard off, it was entirely out of character for any sort of scientific observation not to have her full support. She stood away from the table, deep in a corner, a hand nervously touching her face as if ready to stifle some sort of protest.

Sheridan glared at her, still far from being her biggest fan. He had learnt more of her history, and it had only developed his lack of respect for her. A woman who could turn her back so easily on her own people, so nonchalantly assist her abusive, murderous Nazi captors simply because of her own requirement to show off whilst her family and friends were systematically slaughtered in the next building, was surely without a soul, and could not be trusted.

The little girl, or 'sister' as they had become generally known down to their origins being the 'Little Sisters Orphanage', was unresponsive and looking worse by the minute. the girl had been chasing down ADAM in Paupers Drop... sneaking into boarded up apartments or upper-floor squats and sticking her needle into corpses or the nearly-dead comatose drunks and drug addicts that lay scattered about after a heavy night.

Someone however, had been after the same thing. Witness accounts claimed a strangely deformed, hysterical man had tried to steal the little girls gathering syringe which had been nearly full to the top. When the girl had screamed and tried to snatch it back, the man had grown violent, and attacked the poor girl, battering her into a coma, before making off with the syringe.

"Girl damaged. Possibly can be repaired with combined efforts of Suchong and Steinman, but we must first ascertain real issue - condition of host's seaslug. It is my belief the slug was also damaged in the attack - most unfortunate." Suchong matter-of-factly dictated.

"This is the sixth attack in two weeks... it's getting more of a problem as demand for ADAM products sky-rockets" Sinclair concluded.

"There's no problem with a product sky-rocketing, Sinclair. Successful enterprise is why Rapture exists. The problem is people - supposed businessmen, not having the foresight to anticipate issues in their endeavors and being sufficiently prepared to tackle them." Ryan bit back.

Edward saw the pain on Sheridan's already grumpy face that comment instilled, and he grew tense. He really wanted to ask how far in advance Andrew Ryan had been enjoying the foresight and anticipation of his issues with Fontaine, Dr Lamb or this recently fabled 'Atlas' figure, all of whom had substantially interrupted his hold over his city, and Ryan Industries profits as a result, but new better and held his tongue.

"Another issue has been the public awareness these attacks and the public presence of the 'Little Sisters' has been drumming up. People don't like it, and the rumors surrounding their conception are rampant, bad for business for all of us..." Ryan announced sternly.

"Suchong doesn't understand public affection for Little Sisters. Why such concern for someone else's off-spring? Why more concern for under-developed child rather fully developed Adult?" Suchong asked coldly. There was a subtle but obvious click of the tongue and irritated scoff from the reclusive Brigid Tenenbaum.

"It's immaterial to the cause Suchong, but what I'm saying is, we need to be shown as caring for and educating these girls, not exploiting little girls from an orphanage. Sheridan, I'm sorry my friend but we'll be closing down the orphanage at the end of the month, its just too bad for public opinion towards Ryan Industries, and our little consortium in this ADAM venture as a whole." He declared without concern of Sheridan's reaction, which in short, was dismay.

His jaw fell open and he frowned. "But that is my business... it provides our Capital firm with one of our primary sources of income! You can't just shut me down... where's the 'Free Enterprise' ethics in that?" He began to spout off, surprising all in the room.

"First of all, you were handed the orphanage by the Rapture Council, you did not open it, fund it or have any claim on it until _I_ gave it to you. A man cannot simple expect to be given a hand-out and then stake an entitled claim to the profits off its back." Ryan bit.

"You gave me that stinking, run-down dump because you hadn't the _foresight_ to see its true potential, you didn't want to be burdened with looking after it. You didn't hand it out, you shirked it off onto me. You're just trying to claw back a massively profitable venture that you let slip through your fingers!" Edward couldn't believe how Sheridan was shouting at Ryan, after years of practically licking his boots.

"That's enough! I will not be spoken too like that in front of my colleagues! Now listen - we will close the orphanage. _I_ will then open the space I've been preparing in Point Prometheus - the 'Little Wonders Educational Facility'. It holds a much better approval rating with focus groups, it will swing public favor back into our court regarding these girls." He proudly explained. Suchong had lost interest, not caring about where the girls came from as along as his supply of them was guaranteed, and had taken a scalped to the girls already-scarred abdomen.

"That is a hostile, aggressive attack on my business Ryan. I've already lost my massive investment in Persephone because your men couldn't take Lamb down, now I loose my supply chain for the orphans..." Sheridan was spitting slightly as he spoke, and looked quite dizzy.

"You profit greatly off of your contracted share in the profits from the Plasmid sales do you not? These actions safeguard that income stream from public backlash." Sheridan turned away, staggering slightly, and sat himself down angrily into a chair. As Ryan and Sinclair began to discuss further matters, and Suchong dug deeper into the little sister trying to find the slug buried in her stomach lining, Edward moved over and sat beside his partner to try and comfort him.

"This whole Plasmid business seems to be going a bit sour my dear... that isn't fair, what Ryan's doing, but you can't go up against him so don't even try. We've still got the Bathysphere company, the tower and all our interests invested there - even Cohens's fucking art show is bringing us in a fortune. Let's just walk away now from all of this..." Sheridan snapped his head back and glared in a rage at his lover's monstrous betrayal.

"You fucking what? You think after a decade of trying to make this work, to get back what Fontaine stole from under us, that I'm just going to kiss-off the biggest commercial enterprise in history? You must be fucking insane... thanks for the fucking support..." Again he was spitting and his words beginning to muddle together, a sweat developing on his brow. "Jesus, I could do with some ADAM and a drink." Edward sat up and went quiet. Sheridan had upset him true, but he would seek apologies for that from him later - there would be no reasoning with him like this. He feared that his old, alcohol-dependent ways seemed to be returning, except his ADAM consumption was surpassing even that lately.

"Shit!" Dr Suchong cried out, dropping his scalpel and reaching deep into the bloody mess on the slab. He got a firm grip on something, and yanked with all of his might and very little care for the patient. The slug came out first time, blood-soaked and squirming, but it's tail was broken and it clearly had ruptures in its skin and body, entrails hanging out and ugly fluids were seeping out, dripping back into the angry wound it had been dragged from.

"Slug is dying, useless now!" Suchong threw it across the room, hard against the far wall. That was when the little sister suddenly woke, and began shrieking at the top of her lungs, looking down at her own cut-open body. She tried to kick and punch, to sit up. Suchong pushed down onto her wrists. "Shut up you little shit, stop moving!"

"As if she is going to stop moving!" Tenenbaum cried out, rushing over. Ryan and Sinclair, both grimacing and clearly disturbed moved back and slid through a side door. Edward watched on in horror, wanting to intervene but entirely ignorant as to what he could possibly do, but Tenenbaum quickly did it for him. She snatched the scalpel that Suchong had dropped, and in one clean strike, stabbed it down between the small girls eyes, killing her instantly. That was perhaps the first time anyone had seen her shed a tear, as she stood, breathing fast and heavily, her hand still wrapped around the scalpel.

Edward too was gasping for breath out of shock, and stared in horror at the corpse of the little girl. "Oh fucking hell... nothing is worth this..." He whined. His words fell on deaf ears however, as he turned to gauge Sheridan's response, he found him knelt on the floor by the far wall, holding the dead slug over his head - waiting for the pure ADAM to drip into his open mouth.


	48. Chapter Forty-Eight

**New Years Eve - 1958**

**Mercury Suites - Fortesque Penthouse**

"I have nothing to celebrate Edward, so don't ask me to go out and pretend I'm happy about it. I've lost my mother, and nearly a quarter of our investment fun went down the shitter when Lamb took Persephone right from beneath us. Now Ryan's snatched the Little Sisters from us because the old bastard suddenly realized the profit they will eventually be turning over, and tries to excuse the act as a public relations project on our behalf. To top it all off, I feel like hammered shit..." Sheridan growled from his armchair, gulping down some Brandy.

"And you wonder why you feel so bad? You don't stop drinking, and I currently don't know any of our supposed customers who are consuming nearly as much ADAM as you are! Can't you see - it's making you ill, I think seriously! You'r face is bloated and sagging for christ sake! You look like a Sander Cohen painting!" Edward stormed over and snatched the glass from his hand, and threw it into the fireplace, smashing it.

"You fucking little prick!" Sheridan jumped to his feet and got face to face with Edward. "You just don't have the balls for Rapture do you! You like to play big businessman because I gave you the fancy suits and big office, but when the going gets _really_ tough, you just bow out and revert back to the scared little boy I first took on to shine my fucking shoes."

Edward had been spoken too by his lover like that once before, a few years back now, and despite the pain, knew that it was the cocktail of alcohol and ADAM talking, not Sheridan, so was proud of himself to have enough integrity to let its pass. "When I first took my first shots of ADAM, and ingested Incinerate, then Telekenisis, I started getting headaches, I got dizzy and god knows I made some strange, poor decisions back then... I let us get involved in selling _human beings_ for medical experiments, jesus - I fucking killed a man! I killed Anton! Since then I've only consumed enough to power one Plasmid, which I have ensured I use only for practical uses, and the effects have only just begun to properly subside. But you - you'r always angry, you sweat and swear from morning 'til night and you're treating me like shit - just like you did the last time the drink got to you..." Edward screamed out loud, not caring if his voice was carried out into the Mercury Suites Atrium.

Sheridan snapped his jaw shut, and turned away, placing a hand and his beating forehead on the cool glass of the panoramic window. He looked down onto Rapture - the shining city beneath the sea, and went quiet.

"There are so many people lately with the same issues, I've heard it all over the city. Facial deformities, change in temperament, even crime! Loving husbands turning on their wives, mothers beating their children for the simplest of accidents - even doctors going a bit too far with their surgeries! Ryan keeps it all hushed up through his people in the Rapture tribune, but word is spreading Sheridan, and it is all linked to one thing. They are all ADAM users... If I can't encourage you to get out of the Plasmid game altogether, at least stop using it yourself... please!" Edward reached out to put an arm around his lover. The human contact made him jump, and he span around, punching Edward hard across the jaw. He swung again, a harder punch this time... a third. The fourth, powerful blow threw Edward reeling to the floor with a bloody nose.

"That's right! I've lost everything this year, why don't you fucking turn on me too! Go on, fuck off and leave if that's what you want!" He kicked Edward in the side, and spat at him. "You're a fucking servant Edward, you worked for me! Just because you were a good fuck and I brought you to Rapture with me on a fucking lead, don't ever presume to speak to me like that again! You're my fucking dog, and you will roll over when I command, sit when I command..." His eyes were like those of a monster, the veins in his neck stood out as his heart pumped the ADAM-Blood tonic through his system. Finally, without control any longer, Sheridan threw out a hand, and shot Edward with a bolt of lightening, straight into his stomach. The burning, boiling pain was agony, he screamed and for a minute his limbs were out of control in a spasm.

Coughing up a little blood splatter onto the wooden floor, Edward then rolled as far as he could across the room out of Sheridan's reach, and scrambled to his feet. He began to cry intensely, and held a hand beneath his nose and mouth trying to stem the blood flow. There were a thousand things he could think of to say, a million insults he could hurl back... but all Edward did was look his partner in the eyes, and offer him a look that told him, without hesitation, that a line had been crossed from which he could see no return.

He turned, and walked out of the front door.

Sheridan stood motionless, watching the open doorway out into the Mercury Suites Atrium, where Edward, _his_ Edward, had just walked out and left him. He held out the hand that had released the Electrobolt, and watched the ADAM pulse through his skin and heal away the evidence of what he had done, the painless scorch marks made by the discharge. His hand now began to tremble, not from the ADAM, but from the realization of what he had become, and what he had lost. This loss however, unlike all the others he had endured this year, could be blamed on nobody but himself. He turned back to the glass window, and looked out. This city, this beautiful city, was changing, and it had dragged him along with it, let himself be taken in by all of its magic and bullshit, without a mind to protect himself, or Edward, from the repercussions. He remembered when he had first been told about the concept of Rapture, when he had barely believed it could become a reality. Even though the desire to make his wealth useful and productive had quickly come to the fore, and been his primary motive as far as Lady Amelia had been concerned, his very first thoughts had been about the possibility of providing a safe and open home for him and his secret love Edward, whom he had been madly in love with, behind closed doors, for years already. That memory inevitably brought back the cruel words he had hurled at Edward before he had... dear god, before he had attacked him with a Plasmid! Nearly killed him... He wept, wept onto the glass as he channeled all of his pain down onto the city below that had caused so much of it. Then he held his hand against his own stomach, and delivered the same blast of Electrobolt a second time. Edward had suffered the effects of ADAM far too much, it was time that he did too - he wondered if it could be his only way to learn, to completely understand.

The blast, even though self-inflicted, threw him across the lounge, crashing into the coffee table and surrounding furniture.


	49. Chapter Forty-Nine

**New Years Eve - 1958**

**Kashmir Restaurant**

Edward wondered in, exhausted and resigned to a solemn mood, but determined out of spite to sit at the window-side table he had reserved at the Kashmir Restaurant for he and Sheridan. He had dressed smartly just before the argument in the penthouse, but the blast of Electrobolt had left dreadful charring on his white shirt, so he'd pulled his slightly soiled Tuxedo jacket across to hide it.

He was shown to his table by the waiter, just clear of the giant bronze statue of Atlas holding up the enormous globe. The table was perfect, beautifully laid out ready for a silver service dinner, with a view out across the under-sea metropolis second only perhaps the the one from the penthouse windows. He held his glass up instantly so that the waiter could pour him a glass of Worley 1946 Vintage Merlot.

"Are we expecting a guest, monsieur?" The french waiter politely asked, holding the wine bottle next to the adjacent glass, ready to pour. Edward slumped and sighed, "Not this time, I don't think so."

The waiter scurried off, and Edward was left to his thoughts. He'd probably chosen the very worst place to come, a beautiful restaurant in the midst of a party, filled with cheerful dancing couples, many of them his and Sheridan's friends and associates, who would probably already be wondering why Edward had turned up alone.

As he did let his eyes wonder through the crowd, he noticed Diane McClintock, also sat alone at one of the most sought after tables in the Kashmir. She'd clearly already been through a bottle or two of champagne, and seemed to be feeling very sorry for herself. She had an Audio Diary recorder out in front of her, and seemed to be sarcastically whining away into it. Ryan must have stood her up, again - it had been public knowledge for a while that Diane was his latest squeeze, after the sudden vanishing of Jasmine Jolene from the public eye (some saying it was due to a pregnancy, others a rather resilient disease she'd picked up from a 'customer' requiring the skills of Dr Suchong to tackle it). Yet Diane had stood the public scrutiny very well, with a thick skin and blind adoration of Ryan that made any gossip water off a ducks back to her. Yet lately, his neglecting of her and often public humiliation from the same, had been showing on Diane's face. Tonight, she looked plain pissed off.

That was a feeling Edward was sharing right then, and he knew that he had every right too. The dull ache from the shot of Electrobolt was thankfully wearing off, and his own minimal levels of ADAM pulsing through his body had already gotten to work repairing the cosmetic damage to his skin, but the emotional scarring ran deep, and that would take more than some wonder drug to cure. Feeling as though this really could be the end of the line for he and Sheridan, Edward wondered what Rapture may offer him next - how easy would it be to support himself entirely without Sheridan's support down here? Would he find himself shacked up in Apollo Square or even Paupers Drop? He didn't know how much of their combined fortune Sheridan would allow him should they part ways, so couldn't gauge the footing he would have...

"Well, well... why do I find you alone little moth?" Edward ground his teeth together. _'Oh fuck... perfect timing...'_ Edward thought to himself. Cohen was dressed up in a new Tuxedo, and looked even younger again, almost reaching the stage that his heavy make-up wasn't quite as ghastly to look upon.

"Good evening Cohen, happy new year." He muttered, making no effort to conceal his disinterest on whatever taunts the moron may have.

"Oh now, why so down in the mouth? It's a party night!" Cohen exclaimed, throwing his arms up. "You could always come and join me and the boys down in Fort Frolic is your gentleman isn't going to keep you company... we've quite the show planned tonight..." He smiled mischievously, showing all his teeth.

"Tempting, as always... but no." Edward snapped back, for the first time getting something of a scorn from Cohen. "Little bitch, no need for such rudeness! I would expect a little courtesy for the man showing you compassion!" He got very agitated and curled back up to stand up tall as he growled.

"You've never liked me Cohen, so I don't know why you persist in taunting me, winding me up. You got your peep show years ago where you could lust over my partner - as inconvenient as it was having me there too I know..." Edward came out with it bluntly, and regretted nothing.

"Never liked you? Oh! How could you be so naive, little boy..." He was condescending, and quite menacing.

"You flattered Sheridan because he liked your god-awful music, your shit paintings, you as good as whipped your cock out for him when we came to your sordid little club that night... and made it very clear that you were ignoring me, disapproving of my very existence..., and ever since you've gone out of your way to antagonize me! what is your problem with me?"

The offensive remarks about his art cost Cohen his smug smile, and a glimmer of pure loathing shot across his eyes, until he could recoup and re-build the mask of playfulness. "I see that for years you have been laboring under an entirely incorrect assumption, dear boy. This realization brings pain and grief to my fluttering heart!" He crossed his palms over his chest as though he'd been shot with an arrow, and fained death.

"As I evidently disturb you, I will leave you to your quaint little dinner for one..." Cohen growled, placing both hands down on the table. "But after tonight, I will make it my goal to show you my true intentions, and perhaps we can help you to admire true art..." He snatched his hands back, and vanished on ahead, going through the doors towards the Footlights Theatre.

"Jesus..." Edward muttered to himself, before picking back up his wine glass. Reclining, he closed his eyes and listened to the music that was drifting over the chattering voices and laughs of the celebrating crowd in the restaurant. It was in that first moment of peace, that the explosive device hidden inside the large statue of Atlas was triggered. The immense explosion blew everyone from their seats, upturned their tables... slamming everyone and everything against the walls and the windows.

Edwards neck was throw sharply to the left and his head struck the glass, as body upon body came down to crash land on his lap, on his table... many screaming, most dying. The shock left him only partially able to see or hear as his ears rungs and eyes stang - but he could make out the huge group of people storming the restaurant... they held up guns, grenades, but most simply held out their hands, and unleashed storms of burning Incinerate, Waves of electroshock, razor-sharp shards of ice with Winterblast, all the while shouting "For Atlas!", "Death to Ryan!" Buried beneath a pile of bodies, Edward couldn't move, so he played dead, and watched the brutal slaughter of everyone in the Kashmir restaurant, without a shred of mercy. Men, Women, families, they ran for the doors, fought to reach the stairs, but fish hooks, knives, broken glass, all were thrown at them, jabbed at them. Most were shot on sight, or made to watch for fun as their loved ones were held down to the floor and teased with the barrel of the gun before the final shot that would end their lives.

All Edward could think about, was how much he wished Sheridan, or rather the hold Sheridan, was there with him, to save him. But this time, Edward was on his own.


	50. Chapter Fifty

**Olympus Heights - New Years Eve - 1958**

Sheridan ran through the front door and out onto the balcony, and instantly got a face full of billowing smoke as he looked over to investigate the commotion. The main entrance into Mercury Suites had been stormed by a flood of scruffy, burly looking men and women wielding guns, hammers, bits of lead pipe... anything they could use as a weapon. They lashed out at anyone in their way - innocent men and women that had been venturing out from their apartments towards one of Rapture's many New Years Even celebration events, all were struck, beaten, shot or stabbed violently. Sheridan watched as the atrium of the apartment building lit up like a fireworks display, as different shots of Plasmids were fired off - he even saw a rebelling gardener from Arcadia unleash a thick swarm of bee's from his arm, sending along with it a painful and drawn-out death to the elderly couple that had just come down in the elevator.

The intruders raced upwards through the building, shifting from apartment to apartment as they broke down doors, started fires, and attacked anyone they found. "Long Live Atlas!" They would cry as they attacked.

Suddenly, a younger woman with a dirty face and wearing grubby maintenance overalls from the Atlantic Express Depot spotted Sheridan on the top floor, leaning over the balcony, watching in horror. "Fortesque! We can see ya!" She screamed up at him with blind hatred in her eyes, attracting the attention of several other attackers who began to sprint up the stairs towards him. She tried her luck instantly by using 'Incinerate' to launch an inferno through the air towards him, but he managed to duck and lock himself back inside the penthouse. He stood just on the other side of the door, panting, and listened. The thick door hid much of what was going on, but still he could tell they were getting nearer. He tried to understand what was happening, who these people where? He recognised the name 'Atlas' that several of them had shouted, he was this new mythical figure trying to stir shit up again, just as Fontaine and Lamb had been sufficiently pushed into a corner, but Ryan had been convinced, whenever the matter came up at Council meetings, that the example they'd made of Fontaine would be enough to deter most people from supporting this 'Atlas'. Evidently, Ryan had been very, very wrong.

The hammering on the door came! Sheridan let out a shout as it startled him, and ran. He bolted down the corridor and up the staircase towards the bedroom, the furthest point from the front door he could think of in a hurry. They'd already forced open the front door before he'd reached the top floor, and he could hear the stampede entering his home. "We're here to find Ryan's little bitch?" One cackled, whilst others began tearing up the furniture, ripping down paintings and smashing sculptures.

He reached the bedroom, and quickly but quietly shut the bedroom door, not wanting to give himself away so easily. He locked it, and then turned to choose what could be either his sanctuary, or his final resting place - a hiding place. He scrambled around, pulling open the wardrobe, considering the bathroom... all the time he could hear them downstairs beneath his feet, destroying his home, destroying _their_ home... 'oh god Edward, I don't know where you are, but I hope its safe' he thought to himself, partially speaking aloud as he frantically looked around the room, turning on his heels twice, three times... but everywhere was too obvious. Knowing it was hopeless, he resigned himself to the best option, and flung himself under the bed. He felt like a frightened child, but was out of alternatives. He peered out across the floor, and waited for the door to come crashing down.

Their voices were nearer still, coming up the stairs. "Poofter? Where the fuck are you...? show us some fucking guts and come out!" A man shrieked, laughing also.

The clumsy noises were then interrupted by a single, metallic roar that drowned out all the cackling and laughing, and turned them quickly to hushed expressions of concern and confusion. A second roar... and then a huge, deep stomp.

"What the fuck? One of those big fuckers is in here with us!" A woman squealed, and gun fire started from the crowd just outside the bedroom. Sheridan laughed hysterically with a sudden glimmer of hope - he knew that roar all too well! The shouting and fighting grew more intense, and as the battle clearly reached a climax, Sheridan heard a drill powering up, and then the shouts turned to chilling screams and begs for mercy - but those monsters had never been programmed to understand mercy. It took less than a minute for the powerful drill to rip through the remaining invaders, and finally silence fell.

Cautiously, Sheridan slid back out from under the bed, and ventured closer to the door. "So much ADAM Mr B! This will take a while!" A small girls voice rang out, and in surprise Sheridan quickly unlocked the door and looked out. One of the massive metallic beats stood before him, and quickly held up its drill as a warning for him not to come too near the little girl.

"Those bad men tried to hurt me, but Daddy saw to them!" She excitedly smiled up at Sheridan, whilst she prepared her syringe and jabbed it down hard into the first of the bloody corpses that were piled up along his upstairs hallway.

Sheridan coughed and spluttered to take deep breaths of relief, and took a gentle step back to appease the 'Daddy' as the little sister had called him.


	51. Chapter Fifty-One

**New Years Eve - 1958**

Rapture was in chaos. The once shining beacon of hope for the future, was flickering on and off, and starting to dim. The many explosions that had rocked the cities very foundations had left entire blocks without power, and shut down the cities ambient lighting that had bathed it in its beautiful blue-green glow.

The evening had begun with the halls and corridors of Rapture filled with laughter and music, but now the dark, foreboding tunnels of the underwater city served to echo the thousands of screams and cries, as thousands ran for their homes, searched for safe cover or loved ones lost in the mayhem.

Like a stunned animal caught off its guard, the city seemed to fall silent and limp, it lost its fight and for a long moment, it lay dying on the seabed, trying to gather its thoughts and figure out what had happened. The great city of Rapture, built to avoid humanities inevitable wars and live in peaceful harmony whilst advancing the abilities and capabilities of mankind, had been attacked and crippled just as easily and with even greater violence than the countries and civilizations up on the surface. As Rapture tried to rouse itself, open its eyes and stand back up, the feeling was felt throughout, even known by many, that the Rapture dream had failed. Like any proud man that found himself rattled and taken down a peg or two, the city began to feel anger, rage at its humiliation, and soon, the war would rage to decide who would take the blame.

**Hepheastus Core**

The alarms were ringing, deafening. Several large pipes had burst or been damaged feeding much of the pressurized steam and water in and out of the massive power facility. The core was groaning, fighting on with all its might trying to serve its purpose, but the damage to much of Hephaestus meant much of the great machine fought back at itself.

Andrew Ryan stood on the uppermost level, looking at the core as it turned awkwardly, knocked out of its proper alignment, its gears catching and grazing. His hands curled around the railing, and gripped hard. His security forces were running around him, finishing off the last few straddlers that had dared to breach the core and try and take control of it. Many of his subordinates hovered a few feet away, with accumulated reports on the multiple attacks that had taken place, and the catastrophic damage to his city and its infrastructure, but not one yet dared to approach the great man.

"Death to Ryan..." He muttered finally, his eyes staring deep into the molten yellows and oranges swirling in the core. "Death... to _Ryan_ "... He turned and pulled out a pistol, and instantly fired a bullet into the head of one of the intruders, whom his men had been dragging on his knee's to face Ryan. They leapt at the shot, and dropped his corpse.

"Death to _me?_ I built this fucking city! I paid for every inch of it, I gave these people everything! A new start, a beautiful home... freedom! And what do they do? Throw it back at me like a petulant, spoilt child, and demand even more!" He shot the dead corpse a second time. "They destroy what they can't understand, they attack the city because not one of them had the strength or skill to benefit from it's endless opportunities, and suddenly that's my fault? Well fuck the ungrateful parasites, I'll hunt them down and wipe them out!" He stormed across to another of the attackers confined to a stretcher, having been shot in the leg. Ryan pressed his hand down hard on the wound and squeezed hard. The irish farm hand from the Farmers Market went rigid with the pain and shouted. "Ahhh! Fuck you Ryan, that hurts!"

Ryan smiled with a sadistic pleasure knowing it hurt, and put all his strength into squeezing even tighter. "I want everything you know about this Atlas, and I'm not letting go until I have it - feel free to scream."

**Persephone**

Although Warden Nigel Weir and much of the newly formed 'Rapture Family' had managed to rig Persephone to run primarily off its own generators, it had still been necessary for them to tap into the power lines feeding the 'Fontaine Futuristics' Building directly overhead, so when the initial explosions had occured and the power to the Futuristics building had temporarily been lost, so had the power feed to Persephone.

Dr Sofia Lamb had been sat in a large, wing-back armchair in the Persephone Atrium, preaching to a gathered congregation of the more docile inmates and prison staff. She had just reached the sermon about how one day 'Eleanor Lamb' would return from the Sodom of Rapture, when the lights had failed, the pumps had stalled, and they had been left in darkness. Many had begun to whimper or panic, but Sofia Lamb had remained perfectly calm, sat upright and composed in her seat, holding out her hands for the crowd to reach out and hold on to.

"Have faith my family - this is it! This is the moment that I have foretold... when I will venture out unopposed into the city and bring Eleanor back to us!" She smiled, and let go of their hands.

"Dr Lamb! It's not safe, you can't leave us!" They'd wailed and begged, "You must have faith my friends, not in me, but in our fate that will be Eleanor Lamb's doing. I will see her safely home to us now, and in turn, she will see us safely into the light."

Sofia Lamb, accompanied by some of her more militant followers, proceeded out through to the outermost walls of Persephone, and gazed upwards out of the cave. Where there had always been a glorious blue/green haze from Rapture, came only a very faint glow. "It's happened, the city has turned on Ryan at last! His attention will be elsewhere, his eyes turned from Persephone... let us rise now, together!"

She began walking confidently towards the exits. She could hear her people muttering to each other, amazed at how Dr Lamb had known this day would come so soon, and how as a result, anyone could question her word any longer. She smiled to herself freely, having nobody in front to notice. Not even a week ago, she had been sat alone in her office, looking out into the deep sea trench beyond, when she had been met with an awesome sight - a massive building rising up out of the darkness! She had learnt enough from her fellow captives in Persephone to know that building, the 'Fontaine Department Store' was brimming over with war-mongering supporters of Frank Fontaine. They had somehow managed to lift an entire skyscraper from the abyss and secure their own return to wreak revenge and havoc upon Ryan. She had known then, it was only a matter of days, and wept with delight.

The exit doors opened without resistance, and quickly her bodyguards took out the small, skeleton-crew of security men Ryan had left posted at the entrance.

As the venturing group climbed into a Bathysphere, Sofia again reached out to take their hands. "Rapture is falling, my family. Let's make sure we are the ones to catch her."


	52. Chapter Fifty-Two

**Kashmir Restaurant - New Years Day - 1959**

It had been around 3 hours since the first attack, since the bombing of the Kashmir. Although fiery voices could still be heard in the distance calling 'Long Live Atlas', most were short lived, and finished with a gunshot from one of Ryan's security men. Many Rapture residents with a high enough stake in the outcome of such an event had taken up arms, or pumped themselves full of ADAM and gone out into the city to combat the rioters.

The Kashmir was still now, quiet. The owner, the feisty and normally loud-mouthed Brenda, sat on the stairs and stared at the carnage. The sight alone, and then the thoughts about the consequential cost of getting the restaurant fixed back up had brought on her ravenous ADAM cravings, and she'd already injected twice since the attack. She was waiting for her assistant restaurant manager Charlie to return from his venture out into the transit hub for some ADAM from the nearest Gatherers Garden.

Another survivor, Diane McClintock, was wailing and weeping like a banshee at the back of the stage where she'd sought shelter. She clasped one hand over one side of her face, but blood was still seeping through her fingers, and she hadn't yet seen a reflection to realize half her scalp had been blown away.

Edward, hadn't moved yet. He had rolled two bodies from on top of him, they'd been making it hard for him to breath, but he'd remained led down beside the window. He guessed that he had bumped his head and gone into a sort of daze, as although he'd been led there for hours, he couldn't recall thinking about anything, he'd just stared at the smoke swirling in the air, and eventually the ceiling as the smoke cleared. It was the sudden cold water that made him jerk and wake up, as it began to puddle around his shoulders from a nasty crack in the window, made by a projectile piece of debris. Diane's crying, whilst pitiful, was relentless, and therefore grew very irritating very quickly. Edward slowly sat up, and instantly felt a migraine grip his head. He looked up and out of the window - and for the first time he realised the attack had not been confined to the Kashmir - Rapture was barely lit, and in some of the closer buildings, he could make out raging fires and gunfire. "My god..." he whispered to himself. "Rapture..."

Taking some time to breath, his headache was again offended by the loud crackling of the public address speakers.

"Ladies and Gentleman of Rapture. This is Andrew Ryan. Firstly I wish to confirm that despite some initial rumors, I am alive and well, and that your Rapture council remains in complete control of the city. We, as a community, as a city, have been attacked - and the brutal murders of our fellow Rapture citizens are down to the thugs that support this 'Atlas' figure. Understand, everyone, that these murdering, despicable parasites and their leader will be swiftly brought to justice. Do not fear to walk through the city my friends, do not fear to go about your business, eat in the restaurants, browse the shops... this is _our_ city, and these terrorists will not take our god given rights from us!" He cut off.

Edward cradled his head. He was thankful Ryan had at least addressed the issue sooner rather than later, and his speech was clearly an attempt to try and stall any economic backlash by the people being put off spending their money. Hats off to Ryan, that was quick thinking, even if perhaps rather cold-hearted. He knew Sheridan would be worried... He stopped. _Shit...Sheridan!_ If the attack hadn't been only on the Kashmir, then who knew what could have happened, and where it would have happened - he realised suddenly that there was no way of knowing if anything had happened to Olympus Heights, to Mercury Suites! He stood up, steadying his dizzy self on the legs of an overturned dining table, then began his unsteady steps towards the exit of the restaurant.

The extent of the riots throughout the city began to grow more and more clear. As he ventured out through the transit hub, he found bodies everywhere - not just shot, but savagely ripped apart, stabbed and disfigured by Plasmid attacks. The savagery of the attacks was so intense, that Edward began to sense that the effects of the cities ADAM consumption may be showing, much as it had shown in Sheridan's devastating lash out at him the night before, and be a much bigger problem than first thought. Thankfully the number of the dead did seem to be equaled by the number of walking-wounded, but the atmosphere was like nothing he'd ever felt in Rapture before - despair. He could remember despair, back from his days trudging through the filth and muck in the London Alleys, slipping in fish guts and spilt beer behind the public houses, but Rapture had always been such a world away, until tonight. He started down the stairs towards the Rapture Metro, and saw the large clock tower had been toppled and decimated one side of the staircase, limping on it still tried to chime the midnight toll.

At the foot of the stairs, Edward stopped and stared at the posters that had been plastered all over the walls, picturing a handsome, muscular man looking up heroically... and above him, his name 'ATLAS'. _Fuck you asshole, whoever the fuck you are. You will never, never take this city from us._ Edward thought to himself. He hoped Ryan was up to the task of bringing down this rebellion quickly, for everyone's sake.

A small, skinny little man quickly appeared from the corridor leading down to the Medical Pavilion. "Tell the family, spread the joyous news! The Lamb walks among us once more! She has been seen down in the Adonis Resort! Word is she took down one of those fancy new Big Daddy's without so much as touching him! Tell the family!" He threw his arms up in celebration and vanished as quickly as he'd appeared down the 'Neptunes Bounty' corridor.

Edward closed his eyes, and felt his heart drop. "We're in this for the long haul... and it's not going to be pretty."


	53. Chapter Fifty-Three

**Olympus Heights**

Edward stepped out of the Bathysphere a depressed, desperate man. The journey through the city had taken him close to many scenes of smouldering damage - and had stoked his feeling of utter dread at what he may find back in Mercury Suites - it seemed the majority of the riots had taken place in the most affluent areas of the city, and nowhere was known for being affluent better than there.

He reached the tram station, and waited automatically without thinking for nearly ten seconds, looking down at his burnt hands and ripped suit, before looking ahead for the tram and realizing that it would not be coming. He could see one had stopped a quarter way along the tracks, a second further down, now without power. Bloody, limp corpses were littered around them where the rioters had swamped the two cars and butchered the helpless passengers.

The gruesome spectacle confirmed his fears that Mercury Suites had been attacked, and abandoning all reservations he threw himself from the platform down onto the tracks, and sprinted along the large tram tunnel, bounding over the bodies and skirting around burning debris. He reached the far end, and raced through the arch, only to find a shotgun thrust in face, "Stop right there! Identify yourself!" Four Ryan security men were setting up security check-points beside the two passages through into the Mercury Suites Atrium - the wealthy, powerful Rapture citizens that lived there obviously warranted priority protection, which gave Edward a small bit of hope the interior had survived without interference.

"Put that gun down old chap, I'm Edward Carson, top floor Penthouse!" Edward wheezed after his sprint. He'd put on an immitation of Sheridan's posh accent to try and fight his case, and it worked. "Ay alright, with a gob on you like that you must be. Up you go." The guard stepped aside and swung the shotgun upwards to rest on his shoulder. "But watch your step mate, it's a fucking mess in there."

The guard hadn't been wrong, and the carnage wrenched at Edwards heart. He'd been so very proud of his home, and the beauty of the entire Mercury Suites neighborhood. The elegant red banners and landscaped plants that had dawned the walls and balconies were destroyed and burnt... large pieces of concrete and marble had fallen from all sorts of heights and blanketed the bottom floor in rubble and dust. Burnt, Electrocuted, and even stung corpses were abundant here too - many he recognized as his neighbors, even the old jewish couple from the second floor that ran 'The Golden Rule' on the High Street hadn't been spared a deadly Plasmid ambush. Apart from the crackling fires and groaning pillars now supporting the weight of their fallen brothers, the large hall was silent. Edward looked up through the dust-filled air to their balcony on the top floor.

"Sheridan? Are you up there? Are you alright?" He shouted as loud as he could, and joined the two corpses in the elevator, taking it up to his floor. As he stepped out, he was surprised to be met at his front door by Dr Yi Suchong.

"Edward, good. I need you to tend to Sheridan, he is damaged and causing distress to little sister."

Edward stared at the Korean nutball in confusion "Damaged? Why what has happened, is he ok?"

Dr Suchong held up a hand as a gesture to calm down. "He will live, but not down to his own skill. He upset Big Daddy, Big Daddy retaliate."

Edward gasped, "What was a 'Big Daddy' doing in our apartment? Why would it attack Sheridan?" He tried again to push through but Dr Suchong held him firmly by the arms.

"Rioters were attacking your home. Little Sister sniffed out the ADAM on their dead and went in after them - Big Daddy of course followed as her protector, just as he was designed to do. Big Daddy _saved_ Mr Fortesque by wiping out the rioters." Suchong's explanation sounded more like a dictaphone recording of an examination, devoid of any emotion.

"...and the metal brute couldn't tell that Sheridan wasn't a threat?" Edward growled at Suchong, his tone accusing him of a design flaw.

"But Mr Fortesque was a threat. He attacked little sister - tried to steal her ADAM..., went crazy for it. Said he needed it before he could leave the apartment and look for you... Fortunately I had returned to my apartment to assess damage, and heard commotion. Dr Suchong disengaged Big Daddy from combat. Mr Fortesque too important as investor to my research to let be killed."

"Arsehole..." Edward spat, before pulling free and darting inside. As he scoured the bottom floor for Sheridan, he couldn't believe the devastation to his home, everything was destroyed, intentionally smashed with malice. There had been clearly such hate in the hearts of all these attackers.

He then took off up the stairs, and found Sheridan led on the bed, breathing and concious, but his face was bruised and swollen even more than before, and his shirt was ripped open to reveal further bloody bruises from a swipe of the Big Daddy's drill.

For a moment all was immaterial, the attacks, the fight and the violence. Both caught sight of each other, and wept in relief. As Edwards moved closer and took his injured lovers hand, he broke one of Rapture's biggest rules, and thanked god for their survival - if the old fool was really up there and listening, he had earned at least a thank you.


	54. Chapter Fifty-Four

**Fontaine Futuristics (Under Ryan Industries Stewardship)**

Andrew Ryan sat at the head of the long boardroom table and looked seriously around it at the gathered scientists, at Tenenbaum, Suchong, as well as Sinclair, Edward and Sheridan.

"I'm handling the war, and rest assured it will be brought to a swift conclusion. When the end comes, we need Rapture to be stronger than its ever been, and its people to trust in it. To that end, we need them to feel safe again. The New Years Eve riots and the ongoing flare-ups of violence and terrorism have shaken the peoples trust and feeling of security - so it is vital we restore that."

"Here, here!" Edward barked out in response. Since the attacks, he'd discovered his devotion to Rapture grow even stronger, and he'd become fiercely defensive of it. With the disasters in Persephone, Dionysus Park and the Kashmir Restaurant under his belt, Edward had come to realize that their sacred, revolutionary way of life in Rapture was under a very real and rapidly approaching threat. If he lost Rapture, then he lost the one place in the world where he had ever felt happy to call home.

Accepting of the support but agitated by the interruption, Ryan continued. "The riots have opened everyone's eyes to the fact that Plasmids are dangerous in the wrong hands, deadly in fact."

Sheridan squirmed in his seat, recalling the woman he'd 'melted' with Electrobolt in the Sinclair Deluxe, and the moment he had unleashed his powers against his beloved Edward. He'd been trying to go 'cold-turkey' since New Years Eve, and now spent the days sat in a perpetual cold sweat.

"Now that Plasmids have the reputation of being formidable weapons, that is how we must market them - but not for offensive purposes. Rapture's ideals are in place to prevent war..." Sinclair added to Ryan's proposal. "We at Sinclair Solutions have already drawn up a marketing campaign to push Plasmids as 'home defence' products!" He proudly announced. Ryan nodded in support. "The focus groups approval has gone through the roof - we'll have ourselves an official army made up out of loyal citizens, and be selling products hand over fist in the process!"

Sheridan nervously spoke out. "Should we really be pushing more ADAM consumption? Its clear that its having some psychological affects on those using it..."

Ryan frowned and threw Sheridan an accusing look. "Only those who abuse it, just as it is with any other indulgence. If a man drinks too much, he'll be unpredictable, yet I don't hear anyone asking us to impede alcohol sales!"

Sheridan felt all eyes around the table fall on him, observing his pale, perspiring skin, his swollen features around his face and a slight glazing over one eye. He had no integrity with which to push forward his points, when it was obvious to all that he was one of those that had abused ADAM for some time. Edward felt pity for him, and took his hand beneath the table.

"It's approved already, by executive order. We need the population to feel secure, and we need them to be able to defend themselves, and help us combat Atlas and his hoards. So going forward, your research is to focus on the defensive attributes of Plasmids." Ryan directed the instruction to Dr Suchong, who happily took the instruction on board. "Very easy, Mr Ryan."

As the meeting began to disperse, Ryan beckoned Sinclair over to one corner. "Augustus, I need to discuss something with you, being one of our brightest and most successful entrepreneurs." He buttered Sinclair up and tried his best at a friendly grin. Sinclair was very easily flattered and smiled.

"I don't wish to make this common knowledge, as loose tongues could bring Rapture to the brink. But the situation is slightly more delicate than I just described - sales and trade across the city have already begun to slump in the aftermath of the riots, the last three months have seen a record number of retailers go belly-up because of it." Ryan whispered.

"I can't say I haven't felt the same squeeze myself Mr Ryan, times are the hardest they've ever been in Rapture, and nobody saw it coming so soon or so fast." Sinclair agreed.

"Well, in order for our more stable and level-headed businessman, such as yourself, to see this through, we need to be sure Rapture is able to keep on functioning, to support a marketplace for these men and women to continue thriving in after this damned war. If the economy dies, Rapture dies. Germany taught us that after the great war - and, well, we saw how their issues escalated didn't we." He rolled his eyes in memory of the following second world war, which many had attributed to Germany's frustrations at its economic woes created by loosing the first one.

"Go on, what is it you're asking from me, Mr Ryan?" Sinclair cut to the chase.

"The banks have already reported massive withdrawals - word is Atlas has been threatening to bomb a bank next, and nobody is taking the chance. Two of our largest banks are close to folding, and we can't let that happen. I need a solution, from Sinclair Solutions." He patted Sinclair on the back. "Find me some people with enough assets to shore up the banks. I want entrepeuners to expand like they've never expanded before, take out mortgages, loans... borrow against whatever they have..." He sounded almost desperate...

Sinclair scratched his forehead, clearly dubious about the request. "That's a hell of a gamble Mr Ryan. If the banks do fold, we'll have businesses and their owners thrown into bankruptcy overnight..., citizens made homeless without warning."

Ryan sneered at Sinclair's questioning of his instructions. "If the people of Rapture should have learnt anything, it is to prepare for anything, to secure their own future in the event of catastrophe. We can rely on nobody, least of all a bank, to guarantee our way of life. If someone is dependant on a bank, then they may as well be getting handouts..." Sinclair was stunned at the sudden realization that Ryan didn't believe in his own course of action, but was desperately trying to improvise one of his stirring speeches to convince both Sinclair and himself that it was the right thing to do.

"Anyway, we speculate needlessly. Rapture will survive this ordeal, the banks will survive one way or another. But as I have always said, its a foolish man that doesn't take precautions. I need the banks bolstered - find me something."

Edward was ashamed of himself for eaves dropping, but he had come over to the corner to fetch Sheridan a glass of water from the boardroom bar, and found it difficult not to. He as much as Sinclair could hear the subconscious doubt in Ryans voice, and for one would never risk his hard-earned fortune on a gamble, especially if the banks were already on the rocks. But an idea did crop into his mind, a very naughty idea true, but after years of carrying this particular jip on his shoulder, profitable or not, Edward couldn't pass off the slight chance this may resolve it for him.

"I'm sorry to overhear Mr Ryan, I really am..." He butted in. Ryan spluttered with anger and glared - "What? You were listening in on a private conversation? What do you think you heard?"

Edward smiled back. "I heard enough to know that I can offer you a solution, or at least a start towards a solution. I know of someone sat on an absolute fortune's worth of assets that could be merged into the Banking System, and he's such a social climbing, proud idiot he'd probably do it simply at your request Mr Ryan..." Edward did feel a sneak and rather underhand, but he couldn't help himself from speaking the words... "Prentice Mill, owner of the Atlantic Express. It may be a tad obsolete these days, but we're talking miles of track, an entire fleet of railway cars... staff pensions, savings funds, and I believe most of his personal estate is listed as property of the company. That one man could inject hundreds of millions into the bank, otherwise you'll spend months gathering hundreds of lesser men who can donate only a couple of hundred thousand each"

Ryan cheered up slightly, and chuckled. "Fortesque really has taught you well, Mr Carson. I like what I'm hearing, and I do know Prentice fairly well myself... I think you're right, he will help us."

Edward's heart was thumping. It was only a chance, but one that bore no risk to him. He now had the warning nobody else had, that it was time to pull his and Sheridan's money from the banks quickly in case the economy did hit a turbulent patch, and the financial ruin of the Atlantic Express would put him finally in a better situation to prize it from Prentice Mill at last. If the economy did manage to sustain itself through the war with Atlas, then Prentice would get his money back and they'd be back to the same stale mate.

"Pleasure to help Mr Ryan, my only interest is to see Rapture flourish. Its been very good to me, and I'd like to keep it going on being good to me." Ryan shook his hand, but beneath the pleasantries, both men knew the risk they would be handing Prentice Mill, but had to put their own survival first. It was the Rapture way, after all.


	55. Chapter Fifty-Five

**Adonis Luxury Resort**

Edward and Sheridan sat together beside the pool in the Adonis, and relaxed in the warm, humid air. A waitress came over and dropped too Ginger-Ales and Scotch onto the table between them. Edward noticed the pistol the waitress had tucked under her belt. The Adonis had been one of the first establishments to try and throw its doors back open after the Riots, shutting off the worst-hit parts of the facility until repairs could be made. Although attacks in the this part of the city had been minimal, the management had handed out weapons and a corporate-trial of home-defense plasmids to all of its staff, in a bid to both relax their clients who were coming into the spa to escape the stresses of the city, and also to prevent any further damage from looters or more of Atlas's saboteurs.

Since the couple had withdrawn every penny from the mainstream Rapture banks, they had lost a number of friends around the city. Many bankers had turned on them after loosing their sizeable accounts had been the straw that broke the camels back, and sent those banks immediately into foreclosure. Others, influential business owners throughout Rapture, couldn't understand how the couple had been so hot of the mark in securing their capital and assets in time before the economic downturn really got started, and rumors were rampant that they had received insider information. The financial losses throughout Rapture in the past six months had been so extreme, that the two men now sat in the top five of Rapture's wealthiest citizens, whilst their associates and friends sold off their homes and belongings for half their value, just to put food on the table, and purchase expensive new Plasmids to protect themselves from the random acts of violence that were plaguing the cities public areas.

"When we get back later, we'll need to arrange the maintenance contractors for the north-side Bathysphere stations. We'll be able to get people to take the jobs for almost thirty percent less I think, now that demand for their services is less. The maintenance being done by those Big Daddy's has pushed most of our regular contractors to the edge". Sheridan smiled from beneath his face-mask.

"Don't be so pleased with yourself, we need to keep up our reputation of being the more considerate employers in the market, so let's not push our luck too far."

BANG! They lept up in shock as the huge generator behind them jammed up and began to spark. Two, rotund older ladies in the nearby swimming pool shrieked and quickly swam up to the shallow end and ran out of the water. The lights began to go down, and a large securis door fell across the doorway through to Plasmid Therapies.

"Shit... place is falling apart!" Sheridan peeled off his face mask.

"This keeps happening, all over the city. People just can't afford the upkeep of all the machinery the city runs on at the moment." Edward sighed, but then smiled as he decided it was time to divulge his little secret.

"Which brings me to something else. I've been keeping this one secret until now... I wanted to surprise you." He leaned closer over so that he could whisper.

"Sinclair tells me that Ryan has lost all of Prentice Mill's money - or at least near enough all of it. He'll simply have to sell up soon!"

Sheridan let himself lay back down. "I'm a tad perplexed by your obsession with the Atlantic Express these days. Granted back in the day it was a real pain in our arse, but we've had the upper hand and double the takings with Austen Bathysphere than old Mill has with his trains for a decade. He barely runs four trains a day anymore per route, and had to lay off half his staff soon after the riots. When we found ourselves rid of Fontaine, well... we've had the monopoly on Rapture's transport provisions ever since. the Express is no threat, why bother?"

Edward thought carefully, wanting to conjur up a response other than it was an itch he simply had to scratch, ever since Mill had rejected his offers so rudely.

"We've plunged so much of our existing fortune into estate lately, to keep it out of the banks, and we're holding on to it, but with all the shit going down at the moment nobody is spending on anything but Plasmids, we haven't sold a new Bathysphere in weeks. If we can aquire the Express, we'll be sitting on a pile of materials and infrastructure we can break up and sell off when the market recovers."

"That's very speculative, and mighty long term thinking." Sheridan muttered.

Big Kate O'Malley came stomping into the pool area, a large tool belt slung around her wide hips. "Bloody hell, another break down. Fuckin' useless hunk of crap." She spotted the few customers scattered around the pool, and put a stop to the swearing. "Sorry folks, have it fixed in a tick!" as she set herself down next to it, Edward stood up and stretched. "Its really not the same down here. Don't get me wrong I admire their efforts, but the atmosphere has gone - it seems bleak and empty." He complained.

"You could say that for much of Rapture at the moment. So many losses lately - hundreds locked up still in Persephone doing god knows what for Dr Lamb, and the hundreds that have died in all the riots and attacks over the last few months. People are just staying at home, drowning their sorrows with ADAM." He hesitated in case Edward would have something wise to come back with about that. "I'm just glad I've knocked that on the head for now..." he quickly added.

"How many are you down to now?" Edward asked with genuine concern.

"Just enough for a few bursts of Winterblast to make some ice for the Whiskey. I can last on two or three shots a day now." He smiled with honesty in his face, which was looking much less distorted.

The couple relocated to the sauna, leaving their towels hung up outside, they sat contently nude in the moist heat as they waited for Big Kate to fix the lights around the pool. Sheridan closed his eyes and began to snooze as he let the heat sink in, and Edward had just leant back, when out of the corner of his eye, he spotted the face looking in through the small glass window in the door, with a lustful aroused expression. As if from nowhere, as if he'd just suddenly materialized there, was Cohen. Edward snapped his legs together in an effort to feel less exposed and jumped at the door, but in a second, Cohen had vanished, but an echoing laugh hung in the air.


	56. Chapter Fifty-Six

**Talos Tower**

Sheridan stood infront of the desk, leant back against it as he looked down at the broker sent in by Prentice Mill. Sheridan was sat in his seat behind the desk, watching silently as the final documents were signed. He felt slightly out of the loop on this deal, but he wasn't in the best frame of mind to deal with it he knew, and he was proud to see all the work he'd put into training Edward paying off.

Prentice Mill had finally declared Bankruptcy. He hadn't bothered to put the Atlantic Express onto the market, he'd known exactly where to head straight for. He hadn't come himself of course, he'd skulked off to Paupers Drop after his apartment had been seized, and instead sent a mediating sales broker in his place to handle the final transaction. There had been no negotiations, Edward had made it very clear that he would be buying the Express at its scrap value, to rip up, dismantle and sell off, so Prentice had held no leverage over the price offered.

Edward smiled with accomplishment as he lent down and placed his signature on the final page. "It's done, Gentlemen." The broker announced, as he began to pack his effects back into his briefcase. Edward threw Sheridan the same smile of success.

"I need only remind you that the contract states the trains cannot resume usual service, as the one condition if its sale for exclusive decommissioning purposes."

Edward waved off the reminder. "thank you, Mr Fredericks. Have a good day." He was unintentionally curt, preoccupied with his self congratulations.

The old man glared at them both, before showing himself out of the office.

Edward poured a celebratory whiskey from the drinks trolley, and downed the drink in one gulp. "Now to re-open the central lines first..."

Sheridan looked across the room at him in confusion. "What? you can't - you heard the man... you've signed the contract. You cannot continue operating the Atlantic Express."

Edward smiled, pouring a second glass. "That's right. But yesterday I went to see Prentice Mills' lawyer, the same lawyer that helped Fredericks draft that contract. He was the one that managed to work the contract to read 'cannot resume _usual_ service'. The Atlantic Express as it operates currently will shut down, and that will unfortunately mean disposing of considerable assets and staff. But after that process, I have a plan. Our Bathysphere's cater to the elite, the super-rich. That has worked fine until the war started, until the banks began to fold. The larger market now, and to this moment untapped, is the newborn budget market throughout Rapture. We'll run basic routes, with budget staff, on a limited timetable."

Sheridan had begun to smile as Edward reeled off his intriguing plan to exploit this loop hole he'd paid to have put in place, when suddenly an eruption from deep below shook Talos Tower. He threw out his hands and held his desk as it shuddered. The lights flickered, and plooms of dust fell from the cieling as beams and concrete shifted.

Instantly, the alarms rang out. A Securis door fell down over the office entrance as part of the automated procedure, and two security turrets appeared up two gratings in the floor. "Spilcer Intrusion - Please remain calm and proceed to the nearest emergency muster point." The tannoy announced.

"Christ! Not here!" Edward spat as he took Sheridan by the arm, almost pulling him from his chair. "They hit a wedding party in Arcadia last week... I thought that would have been enough for a while!" He boomed angrily. He wondered where the explosion had gone off. They ran to the small door in the corner that opened into a private elevator. Punching at the directional buttons, they descended straight down to the private dock for their Bathysphere. A second, larger explosion shook the foundations as the couple climbed up into the cabin and sealed the door. "Take us out, quick!" Edward cried as Sheridan pulled down on the activation lever.

The Bathysphere leapt from its mooring out into the open sea, bobbing violently at first until the motors kicked in. Pulling out, they could see the lights flashing and failing throughout the entire structure, and as they looked down towards the base of Talos Tower, the larger, panoramic windows of the retail section were filled with flames and smoke - that had been the center of the splicer attack. Using fish hooks and the ADAM-induced deformities in their hands, the splicers were climbing like spiders across the walls and the glass. Flashes signaled gunfire, and storms of blue streaks confirmed someone was unleashing 'Electrobolt' upon the hundreds of shoppers trapped inside.

"Fuck... oh fuck!" Edward gasped as he watched the fire and violence, "Our building! All those people!"

"We're ruined..." Sheridan slumped down into his seat and cradled his red face in one hand.


	57. Chapter Fifty-Seven

**High Street**

The lights were dim, most of the large overhead spotlights and chandeliers along the High Street had failed, and only the decorative neon lights and some hallway lights kept the large space lit just enough to walk through. The marble floors were littered with discarded newpapers, broken glass and litter. Terrified, scurrying figures rushed around in the shadows, along the walls, some splicers and others petrified civilians just trying to keep their cover.

Edward led, a vacant-looking Sheridan following close behind, having once again chosen to deal with his depression by downing a bottle of 'Old Tom' Whiskey. They swiftly ran across the large open space outside what used to be 'Cohens'. Edward let the first smile he'd had in weeks spread across his face as he looked upon the burnt-out hovel the once-opulent club had become. It had been swarming with Splicers not too long ago, a vice den from which Cohen had been swiftly driven. Many supposed it was he that had planned the fire-bombing soon after that had raised it to the ground.

That was one venue in the great city that Edward was not sad to see falling into disrepair - the fire had consumed the scene of one of his worst memories.

Focusing back onto a safe route across High street, avoiding the ADAM-induced giggles and crazed Cackles from the shadows, Edward pressed on. He clutched a leather briefcase close to his chest, whilst pulling Sheridan along with his other arm.

They eventually made it through into the next street, this one even less illuminated than the last. They stood in the banking district, or at least what used to be the banking district. The large, prestigious buildings that had been the main financial institutions of Rapture were boarded up, some burnt out. Some windows had a faint glow, Edward guessed squatters mostly. To be sure, he checked for the pistol he had wedged under his belt. The building they were headed for, stood at the very far end, looking out over its very own courtyard and enormous window out onto the city below - the last bank standing, Andrew Ryan's bank.

Four security men stood guard outside, and held their tommy guns at the ready until Edward had presented his and Sheridan's ID.

They soon sat at a small mahogany desk in a back room, with an aged clerk. His suit was worn and wrinkled, stained with dust from walking through the blast-damaged parts of Rapture. His face was drawn and his eyes dark, sunken into swollen, red sockets that indicated the early on-set of ADAM addiction. His hands shook as he took the paperwork and financial statements from Edwards briefcase.

"Well Gentlemen - you're luckier than most to still have some sort of income." He sighed, flinging the paperwork into a small safe behind him with little care or grace. "It may not be what you were depositing when you had the tower or the Bathysphere's, but it's enough ay?" He chuckled which turned into a hoarse cough.

"We didn't even get the insurance pay out for Talos Tower - even after it collapsed..." Sheridan spat in a drunken stupor.

"Of course it collapsed - the Wales boys built it! Just look around - the whole damned city is starting to piss all over itself, won't be long before the rest of it collapses under the weight of the sea."One of Ryan's goons cleared his through in the corner of the room, the Clerks sudden reaction confirmed it was an instruction to behave and shut his mouth. "So, for now you'll just have to make do with the income from your contracts with Sinclair and your Atlantic Express. Its menial but as I say, more than most. If nothing else, it will buy you a better standing than the rest of the population when this war with Atlas is over and done." He closed the safe, and stamped a reciept.

Sighing, resigned to a fore-see able future of destitution, Edward and Sheridan took each others hands and wondered wearily out of the bank back into the street. Silently, they's sat themselves down on one of the few benches still in one piece, and silently looked through the dirty glass at Rapture. She was still fighting for breath, fighting for life. Her lights and neon signs were dim, but still on nonetheless. Even in shadow and coated in un-tended sea weed, the seascrapers and towers were a stunning sight, and the majesty of the cities design and scale was still there. "Poor old girl..." Edward whispered to the city under his breath. "You didn't deserve to end up like this."

"None of us did.." Sheridan snarled bitterly, having heard his partners words. "...but you least of all my love." His face was the most tired and saddest Edward had ever seen it. He'd become so used to seeing the drained expression of a drunkard, that he'd failed to see just how much regret and sorrow was lying beneath.

"Oh my boys!" They shook, shaken briefly by the sudden outburst behind them. The distinctly American accent and ever-chipper tone of Augustus Sinclair gave him away. Even he looked worse for wear - his usually sharp suit had become a ragged shirt and strained braces holding up a thread-bare pair of grey trousers.

"Augustus - we haven't seen you for a while. Figured you'd bailed on us..."

"Bailed on you boys? How could I do such a thing?" He smiled desperately and patted Edward on the shoulder. He wanted something, clearly.

"I've come to find you as the bearer of great news son, great news! Dr. Suchong is no more sport... met with the business end of his own Big Daddy and got taken out."

Both Edward and Sheridan gasped, and shared a quick glance at each other, before turning back to Sinclair. "That's regretable Augustus, and hardly great news, but neither is it all that surprising these days. So many of our clients and friends have been killed since New Years Eve..."

"That's just the prelude to the great part sport!" Sinclair interrupted, clasping his hands together and offering a slight pause for dramatic effect. "Suchong had me over a barrel for a while you see, built me those Big Daddy's so we could all rent them to Ryan to keep his city maintained, but the tricky devil programmed them to recognise his authority over all else. Only he could tell those boys what to do..." Still smiling, he put a hand on the shoulder of each of them. "Now he's lying without a pulse up in Artemis Suites, the Bid Daddy protocols mean that as with assets in a will, these particular assets now answer to Suchong's investors - namely you boys! If he cares about keeping his city standing, Ryan's about to become your new best friend!"


	58. Chapter fifty-Eight

**Arcadia**

Sheridan pulled the Bathysphere up into the small station, and released the door. He retracted his master key that gave him access to remote pilot the public Bathysphere's, and followed Edward out onto the platform.

"This could really save our necks, financially and most probably literally. If we have control over the Big Daddies now, Ryan will have to offer us his full protection." Sheridan sounded almost positive. "We need to reach Point Prometheus soon and get those control codes."

They both suddenly stopped dead after passing through into the Rolling Hills. The flames, scattered bodies and smoudlering Big Daddy made it clear that Arcadia had very recently been a battleground. The air was stale, it smelt bad, which given that Arcadia was Rapture's primary source of oxygen was not comforting. Arcadia was usually the freshest location in the city, and it's clean air normally carried the scents of flowers and pine. Today however, Edward noted a faint green tint to the air, and it stung his nostrils.

"Whatever's going on here, we should make quick our cut through and be gone before anyone comes back!" Edward declared, starting across the large expanse of grass. Sheridan tugged on his sleeve however, and gestured across to Dr Langford's laboratory entrance. It had been attacked - the front entrance practically blown open. Dead splicers were everywhere, some burnt, others horribly disfigured by electrocution.

"Julie - do you think she is ok? Last I heard she'd barricaded herself in pretty well and hadn't come out for days. Why would the Splicers go to such trouble to get in to her lab?"

Edward sighed, "Maybe Ryan finally got tired of having to negotiate with her over Rapture's air - you remember how stubborn she could be."

Sheridan sighed and looked around at the Rolling Hills, the green mist seeming to disperse even more. Still, the place seemed sad, as if plants could look as equally depressed as humans. He recalled whenever he had sought out his mother, Lady Amelia, usually sat somewhere in one of the parks or gardens with a book. The place had seemed so much more alive and vibrant then. He pursued the thought just long enough to realise how grateful he was in a way his mother had not lived to see Rapture decline to such an extent.

Suddenly, as they began to round a corner, a young woman in a long white coat burst through a side door. Her hair was ruffled as though she'd just pulled off a hat or helmet, and both her hands were riddled with disgusting holes and oozing wounds, flies and bugs crawling amongst it all - 'Swarm'. "First some fucker tries to kill off the tree's, then kills Julie - along with my chances of ever seeing a bloody paycheck ever again, now some bastard has pissed off my Bee's!" She spat, pushing between the two men without a care. "Fuck it - what a fucking day!" She carried on ranting to herself as she made for the Waterfall Grotto.

They couple stared at each other for a second, their blank faces knowing now that Dr Langford - yet another of the Rapture elite, was dead. Their two second period of mourning was swiftly cut short when gun fire rang out behind them, and the young beekeeper let out a blood-curdling scream from somewhere out of sight.

"Shit, lets move!" They agreed as they ran.

**FONTAINE FUTURISTICS**

The gang of heavies stood around Dr Sofia Lamb in a protective circle as she sifted through much of the paperwork Gil Alexander and Dr Suchong had left behind. She'd already tried the easiest route to aquire the information she needed directly from 'The Thinker', but Reed Wahl had sealed Minerva's Den up tight, and unfortunately the computer systems protecting the Den were beyond her or any of her flock's talents.

"This was not what I was hoping for..." She delicately confessed, but with a confidence that demonstrated she had already planned for this and had a solution. "Amelia's son - the homosexual. From what I've read here, he will now hold the necessary permissions to re-programme the Big Daddies, or in our case, programme new subjects..." She fed the information to her closest confidants within the small band.

"We'll need to secure the necessary leverage over him to ensure he'll willingly hand us over the codes, as I doubt he has the capacity to understand the gravity of our work, and will not be inclined, therefore, to simply hand them over." She threw the papers down, and turned her back on them. "All of this is redundent now. There is nothing of any further use here. I need you all to proceed with haste and locate Edward Carson, and then bring him to me... alive."


	59. Chapter Fifty-Nine

**Point Prometheus**

Sheridan wiped his genetic key before sliding it carefully into the large slot in the machine, and then typed in his personal code that would activate the key. This was perhaps on of the few remaining terminals in Rapture, other than those in Hephaestus, that 'The Thinker' would still communicate with. For a moment the machine began to make whirring sounds, and shook slightly as if filled with a boiling liquid ready to erupt. Both he and Edward held their breath for a moment, until the key retracted, a bell rang and a green light illuminated overhead.

' _Transfer of Protectorate programme permissions complete'_ a female voice crackled out from a small speaker. Sheridan cradled the key for a moment, staring at it.

"Well - somebodies just become a rather important chap around here!" Edward chuckled, and turned to look through the window. From that location, if he looked hard and long enough, the orange glow of Hephaestus was just visible in the distance. He pictured Andrew Ryan now - irritated perhaps that Suchong's death hadn't made it a simple job for him to aquire the protectorate programme and all the Big Daddies it incorporated, to cut out any middle man. He didn't like to think of Andrew Ryan being irritated by them - Ryan was still by all accounts a great man, it was just a shame that the treachery and ignorance of others during the civil war had made it necessary for Ryan to show his more savage side.

"Well - I suppose our next stop should be Andrew Ryan's office, so we can at least demonstrate our commitment to supporting Rapture's maintenance with our assets..." Sheridan enthusiastically announced, heading for the door.

Edward was quick to follow; "Yes that sounds wise. I hate what they've done here anyway - gives me the creeps, all these damned testing rooms, water tanks and funny smells - almost as bad as how Persephone used to stink whenever you dragged me down there!" He laughed.

"Well just take pleasure in knowing its likely Sofia Lamb is still holed up down there with all those smells!" Sheridan smiled, although only partially as the memory of Dr Lamb's endeavors came flooding back. Edward didn't even manage a reply before he was dumb-struck by his recollection of the firefight in Persephone between Dr Lamb's 'Rapture Family' and Ryan Security.

"I'm telling you my love, when I look back on it all, we've certainly been through the mill down here... under the sea. Explosions, attacks, all-out war..." He trailed off.

"It was never supposed to be this way - Rapture was built to avoid all that bullshit! It was the whole point..." Sheridan said in a mournful tone.

They passed through into the Main Hall of Point Prometheus, and began walking back towards the Bathysphere station through the Atrium.

"Nothing ever goes as planned." Edward tried to console Sheridan, who had gone very quiet upon his reflection of their time since moving to the city. "But boy - what a story! For better or for worse, the latter being pretty hard to trump in the first place, you rose me up from a life of dismal poverty and gave me a life of wonderment in this great city, along with you of course. Even if it was only to last for these few years - its worth as much as a hundred ordinary lifetimes!"

Sheridan let a small smile appear in the corner of his mouth, and he turned his eyes to look into Edwards. "I'm glad you think so - and when you put it like that, so do I! Lets hope that maybe now, when we get these Big Daddies back on track and help Ryan pull Rapture out of this depression, that we'll see a second, even more glorious age of Rapture evolve!" They took each others hand, and in the silent isolation of the empty Atrium embraced.

The gunshot rang out loud, cutting through the silence. Sheridan screamed as the bullet cut through his knee, the same he had cured with ADAM all those years ago. He collapsed to the floor, his embrace around Edward almost toppling him too. Edward leapt in shock, and as he swiftly knelt down beside his partner, he too looked around to locate their attacker. It took no more than a second to notice the group of men and women descending both flights of stairs from the upper levels of the atrium.

He opened his mouth to shout, but a strong blow to the back of his head came quickly, knocking him unconscious.

**FONTAINE FUTURISTICS**

"We've brought the most stable of the subjects up from the Labs below Dr Lamb, she's heavily sedated." A rough, emaciated old woman announced as the two large men behind her carried the teenage girl through into the darkened lab and quickly strapped her to a waiting gurney.

Dr Sofia lamb approached the girl, reached out and led her hand calmly onto the girls forehead. "Rest easy my child, keep calm. You are the first step in our great quest to build Utopia." She hushed as the girl began to wriggle and whine drowsily. The girl had already been strapped and buckled tightly into a new suit - one based on those created for the Big Daddies, except this one was far more maneuverable, lending itself to the youthful and agile movements of a teenage girl. Her face was now the only human part of her body visible, and even then the description 'human' was a stretch. Years of gathering ADAM from the dead had warped her mind and contorted her limbs. The girl was long and slender, pale with large, dark eyes. The ADAM she had consumed and stored for so long was still transforming her and developing her abilities. Lamb stared lovingly down at the monster on the gurney, and sighed with serenity. "We are so close, my family." She spoke aloud to all around her. "Does this one have a name?"

"Nah, not that she can recall anyway." A large, brutish man snarled. "The little ones just keep calling her and the other older ones 'Big Sister'".

"They got that from my Eleanor - our Eleanor. She calls them her 'Big Sisters'. It's appropriate in a way..." Dr Lamb smiled.

Suddenly, a short wave radio crackled to life in the hand of a splicer nearby, who held it up high so that all could hear.

"Dr Lamb, we have great news for the family! We've apprehended the heathens Edward Carson and Sheridan Fortesque! We are enroute to you now!"


	60. Chapter Sixty

**FONTAINE FUTURISTICS - Lobby**

Edward realised that he was thinking again, and that as he thought more, he found the strength to begin opening his eyes. He could hear running water, and the repetitive chimes of a nearby 'Circus of Values' vending machine.

"He's waking up!" A distant, echoing voice volleyed around inside his head. He's opened his eyes far enough to make out the giant, bronze globe towering over him, when he was struck instantly in the face with a searing wave of heat. He shrieked, and quickly sat upright and looked around in alarm and pain.

"Nothing like a tiny taste of Incinerate to clear the head!" a woman cackled to his far right.

"You bitch! fuck you!" Sheridan's voice was unmistakeable, he was nearby but out of view - behind Edward somewhere. "Don't you fucking dare touch him!"

"Oh now my friends, let's try this the peaceful way first." That voice was also, unmistakeable. The over-confidence and superficial charm meant it could only be Dr Sofia Lamb. She was also stood out of view, close to Sheridan.

Edward's sight was finally clear, apart from the stinging in his eyes from the flash fire hurled at him moments ago. He recognized the lobby, and realised just how far they'd been transported whilst he was out cold - across the full breadth of Rapture! suddenly his chair was swiveled around, and he was left facing Sheridan a few feet away. His heart fell as he looked upon his partner, who sat in a bundle on the floor, beaten to a bruised, bleeding pulp. His eye was swollen shut, and his jaw was so awkwardly positioned Edward guessed it was broken. "Oh my love - what have they done to you?" he cried.

The skinny, weak looking female splicer stepped forward, grinning with malice, and trod down hard on Sheridan's shattered knee where he'd been shot. He shrieked aloud and his body spasmed under the pain. She held a hand up, and began to summon a ball of Winterblast, a storm raging in the palm of her hand waiting to be unleashed. She threw the snowstorm down onto his leg, and a huge block of ice formed around Sheridan's bloody knee.

"that'll stop the pain for now, buddy! Help you think carefully about what you choose to say next!" She cackled and danced off around the room.

Dr Lamb stood motionless off-centre, observing the display of insanity with little care for a woman whose profession was based on tackling mental afflictions. She slowly stepped across the lobby to Sheridan, casually walking her heeled shoes through the pool of his blood, before bending down to his height.

"Your mother was true believer, Sheridan. She could see the way, the beauty of what we are trying to build here. If you give me what I need, not only will I give Edward a swift death, but I guarantee you a place in the Rapture family, safe from harm, just as your mother would have wanted."

Sheridan was struggling for breath, wheezing and spluttering, but even as she spoke, his gaze never left Edward.

"Fuck off you crazy bitch. My mother saw you for what you were in the end, a manipulative, self-serving psycopath whose so fucked in the head you've convinced yourself your right." He growled, spitting blood up her skirt.

"What is it she wants?" Edward cried, pushing against the ropes that tied him to the chair. Dr Lamb smiled calmly and looked up. She slid a hand into her small satchel, and pulled out Sheridan's Genetic Key.

"We've already been able to retrieve this from his person by force." She waved it to tease, before safely putting it back into her bag. "But in order to use it, we need the code as well."

Edward could see everything clearly, what would happen if Dr Lamb could use that key. She'd turn the Big Daddies against Andrew Ryan, against the city itself. In one foul swoop she's have the power to hold the entire city to ransom. Or worse, the Big Daddies could potentially be enough muscle to take control of Rapture by force even!

"She can't have it Sheridan, she'll destroy Rapture! Everything it stands for!" Sheridan grimaced in response, knowing Edward was right and knowing the consequences it would probably mean for them if he tried to refuse. Dr Lamb gestured with two fingers to one of the crowd, and instantly a shot of electrobolt was cast across the room and into Edwards chest. He leapt up in his seat, and his limbs went rigid as he fought against the charge, the burning pain that swirled like a maelstrom in his lungs and heart.

"No!" Sheridan begged, trying to sit up further and demonstrate some level of fight left in him.

"Give us the code, and it will be swift!" Dr Lamb chanted as she called in another pulse of Elecrtobolt. This one struck Edwards groin, he screamed in agony and vomited. The steam from the scorches to his skin carried the smell of his own burning flesh to his nose.

"These are painful, agonizing, but not quite enough yet to cause death. We can keep this up for quite some time..." Dr Lamb called down to Sheridan, her eyes never leaving Edwards convulsing body. Whether she knew it or not, she had let a sadistic smile slip out. Her eyes were bright with adrenaline and pride.

"Fine!" Sheridan bellowed with anger and defeat, "Fine! I'll help you use the key, I'll give you the code... 181146 - the date we came to Rapture..."

Sofia lamb threw up her arms in accomplishment, and span around on her heels, absorbing the congratulatory smiles and cries of delight from the Rapture Family. "He see's the light! At last!" She turned back to Sheridan, and took his chin her fingers, lifting his eyes to her face. "With your help, we will condition a new protectorate! One that will truly protect our family and pave the way to our Utopian future! The 'Big Sister'!" She used the name with a laugh, and a ripple of applause and laughter followed from the congregation of splicers and thugs.

Edward and Sheridan had lost interest in Dr Lamb, they looked across to each other, yearning for each other. Edward waited now for the 'merciful' death that was planned for him, and chose to wait out his final moments looking at nothing but the man he loved, his reason for living at all. Sheridan however, began to move his quivering lips... he was trying to mouth something... "Run... Edward. Be ready... to run... I love you..."

Edward made the mistake in his dizziness to mouth back "What? ...why?" with a little too much enthusiasm, and Dr Lamb noticed instantly. She frantically looked between her two captives, trying to deduce what had been said, only slightly concerned as she for all intents and purposes held all the cards. "What are you saying? I hope it's important..."

"I said, be ready to run!" Sheridan cried out, before he swung his good leg out and kicked Dr Lamb's legs out from under her, sending her flailing to the floor in a heap. He then called on all his might, every ADAM-infused ounce of energy he had left, and with his two arms hurled himself up into the air. The splicers began to race to grab hold of him, but his speed was astonishing, he wailed and screamed as he crunched down on his shattered knee, running on it towards Edward. He stretched out his right hand, and pushed hard to create a massive, dagger-like shard of ice in the palm of his hand.

Edward watched in amazement, but could see too the crowd of pursuing splicers tailing Sheridan across the Lobby - charging their own storms of Electrobolt, Incinerate and all manner or other weaponized Plasmids. The first to strike Sheridan's back was a blast of ice, like glass it dug into his skin and cut through muscle. Two shots of incinerate followed, burning deep into his back, peeling off skin and charring his spine.

In his last dive towards Edward, he slipped the sharp icicle in his hand between Edward's ropes, and cut them. "Now run! Get away! Go!"

Edward rolled from the chair just as it was completely destroyed by an explosion, a charged blast of Incinerate. Panicked and crying he scurried across the floor, climbing up from his knees to his feet. As he turned, all he could now see was the figure of Sheridan, his partner and lover, burning and trembling on the floor. For a second he froze at the sight, and had no desire to run - but quickly their attackers attention moved on from the devastated corpse of Sheridan Fortesque, on to Edward. They struck him with two charges of Electrobolt before he quickly lunged past the main entrance, and through a maintenance workers hatch. Tears were streaming down his face and his hands were shaking so violently Edward could barely navigate, but he managed to seal the hatch shut behind himself, and raced down the metal stairs to the airlock entrance below. Unless you had a Bathysphere, he remembered it as being the only way in and out of the building since Ryan blew up the main entrance corridor.

The hammering and sound of explosives against the door behind him spurred Edward on to the Airlock, and he started frantically sifting through the diving equipment to try and concoct something that would help him escape on foot across the seabed. He put on helmets, tried to connect suits to the large boots, but his hysteria and the agony from his torture made concentration impossible. Suddenly, the door upstairs swung open, and the hoard came flooding in, as deadly and swiftly as if they were the ocean itself. They pinned him up against the wall so high his feet were off the ground, and he waited there - holding his breath and wailing in despair as they laughed and chanted twisted mockeries. Finally they parted, and made way for Sofia Lamb. She had suppressed her smile, but the pride and accomplishment in her eyes was still ripe and clear. "My dear fellow - we were never going to kill you! Someone else has already laid claim to you! Cut a deal with us, offered us his support in over throwing Ryan in exchange, simply for you!" Her eyes burned with anticipation, and there it was again briefly, that smile. She drew a small syringe from her satchel, and plunged it into Edwards neck. Within moments, he was once again blacking out.


	61. Chapter Sixty-One

**Fort Frolic**

Sheridan was dead. It was the first conscious thought that came into Edwards weary mind. Sheridan's dying, agonising screams were burned into his mind, it was all he could hear as he stirred from his daze. For so long, against the odds Edward had held a hope that Rapture would endure, survive, and that together he and Sheridan would pull through to see that glorious day. But now, he knew everything was over. He was alone, everything he loved or valued was gone, and he was alone now, in a dying city at the bottom of the cruel, cold sea.

He woke to find himself in a small room, poorly lit except for a stage light focused directly on him. Looking down at himself, he jumped and yelped in shock. He was naked, stripped of all his clothing, and bound upright to a large steel frame, that resembled some form of crucifix. What was more - up until the top of his thighs, he was coated in solid plaster so thick he could no longer move. As he struggled and looked around for a way to free himself, he was conscious of a terrible headache, two terrible pains in his skull. Waving his head, he could feel two appendages protruding from his head that had certainly not been there before - he caught his shadow against the far right wall, and gasped as he made out the two large rabbit's ears that had been jabbed into his scalp. "Fuck!" He shrieked, and tried frantically to reach up and touch them, to rip them away, but his out-stretched arms had too been sealed to the crucifix with rope and plaster at the wrists.

"Don't fucking touch them! You look sublime, sublime!" The camp, dramatic squeal made Edward shake and stop dead - Cohen. Cohen hadn't been seen or heard from in months, he'd taken his 'disciples' and a band of his most devout followers and holed up in Fort Frolic, waiting for the Civil War to 'blow over'. Edward had often remarked to Sheridan that it was the one upside to the war.

The creepy old fruit stood with his arms crossed in the corner, concealed by the shadows behind the stage light. His psychotic eyes and his wide, toothy grin were what gave him away. "Oh my darling - how I've been longing for this..." He hissed, moving closer. "For years, YEARS I have watched you, bided my time... tormented, tortured by the knowledge that you above all others could help me realise perhaps my greatest work of art! Every move you made, every gesture, just fed my muse with inspiration - I could picture the perfect poses for you..." He began to rave, throwing his arms in the air and singing to himself. His shirt was undone down to his naval, and an his trousers were ruffled.

"Fuck you Cohen, you crazy old bastard." Edward bit, his pain and loss blinding him to any thoughts of self preservation.

"Oh I understand my petal, I really do - you've lost your pretty boy Sheridan. How tragic..." Cohen whined, without one solitary hint of genuine remorse. "But the agony you feel now, will only improve the final piece - I want you to wear the pain Edward, own it!" He wailed. He threw a hand down onto Edwards exposed waist, and caressed it, his eyes bulging with a restrained desire.

"There is much for us to do to you before we apply any more plaster, dear boy. Much to do... my muse dictates that you are to endure... Do you know that Dr Suchong once told me, that in his country, they feel the more suffering and despair an animal feels, serves to sweeten the meat?" He hissed again and smiled knowingly, letting his hands fondle more, shaking slightly with excitement and the effects of ADAM.

A small alarm suddenly buzzed, and an intercom sizzled; "Sander baby - we've got company. He's coming through from the Metro Station now..." A gruff, masculine voice moaned down the intercom. Cohen's eyes lit up even further, and he scurried across to a small station where he could flick through different security camera feeds. "Oh... I've been waiting for this little moth to flutter into my little land. This one may be quite the little tease..." He went through several different channels before he found a feed showing another young man in a lumpy white jumper wielding a wrench making his way towards the main doors into Fort Frolic.

"Oh look! Would you cast your eyes on that! He is a triumph! A beauty! Oh the things I could do with that face! He could surpass even you!" He turned, snarling at Edward. He began to search around, tipping over boxes in a tantrum, before pulling a large plaster statue from a nearby turntable.

"I may not even bother with your hideous face anymore! We shall see first if this new one is worthy of my attention... STAY!" Cohen screamed as he threw the statue into Edwards face, dazzling him. As Edward rolled his head, stunned and bleeding, Cohen vanished through the door.


	62. Chapter Sixty-Two

**Hephaestus Core - Office of Andrew Ryan**

The great man stood in the great hall outside his office, that many of the grease monkeys down there had recently nickname 'Ryan's trophy room'. It was true he had hung the bodies up on the pillars of the hall to serve as examples to anyone that may be considering turning on Ryan, and the macabre display was a wonderful tool for intimidation, but he hardly held his head up with pride when he looked at them, at least not when he was alone.

He looked at Bill McDonagh's corpse the most, but never directly. He couldn't bring himself to do it. Bill had been with Ryan since the beginning, starting off fixing Ryan's lavatory in his New York Penthouse, before Rapture was even built. They had shared the vision of Rapture for many years, and Ryan was man enough to admit, that many obstacles they had faced could have delayed Raptures safe completion by many years had Bill not been involved. Bills betrayal had been the worst, out of everything Ryan had endured, Bill's plans to turn on Ryan and murder him had been the most painful blow.

He tried to convince himself these bodies served as testaments to his resolve in preserving his vision, but in truth, they served only to break his heart.

He sighed, and swung the golfing iron he'd carried out with him from his office. He was alone, and here he could be one with his city, hear it's heart beating and its veins pulsing. He felt almost guilty, knowing that in the next few hours, he may well be forced to make the ultimate sacrifice and tear down his own creation. Atlas had almost taken it from him, turned the people against him with the ease of a Collie guiding a heard of mindless sheep. He had begun to accept over the last few days that his dream, the Rapture dream, was over, and that there could be no way out now other than his own death. Since Andrew Ryan had first conceived Rapture, he had always sworn that he planned to live out the rest of his life in Rapture - and he would keep that vow without regret. What the great man did regret, was ending his life on such a low, his beautiful city all but destroyed, his legacy in ruins, and even his own son now against him...

He dismissed the corpses with a wave of his hand, and slowly meandered back into his office, sealing the doors shut behind him. He had first entertained the suggestion of having a child when Diane had brought it up during a short break at the Adonis Resort. It had never really dawned on him before that he would exit the world, he'd always been too busy to contemplate death. But then he had Rapture to think of - and a Rapture-born son would be his way to guarantee Rapture's future and the preservation of its principles.

But even that had been taken from him now. Jasmine Jolene, the greedy slut, had conspired with Fontaine and sold his newborn son. That son, ignorant of his heritage, a puppet on a string, was now storming the castle and would soon be coming to kill his father. There was a glimmer of hope still that yearned in Ryan's heart, that he may break through to his son and free him from Atlas's control, but he was also realistic that it was probably impossible - Suchong had been a genius, and whatever switch that crazed bastard had implanted into the boys head, was probably irreversible. No... no this would be the end. If the boy, or Atlas, got too close, Ryan was ready to end everything, end them all. Rapture was his, and he would watch her drown with a smile on his face, before he handed her to the likes of Atlas.

He walked through into his office, and closed the door. Laying the golf iron down on his desk, he walked across to one of his display screens and began to peruse the security recordings of the boy making his way through the city. He made it no more than thirty seconds in, when there was a tremendous roar and rumble, and for a second, the power went out. His office fell into darkness, with only the warm glow of the geo-thermal pipes outside to light his way - he could hear the air duct fans and generators struggling as they lost power for a fleeting moment, before the back-up systems came on.

Ryan had been telling himself to expect it to come to this, yet still such a critical blow against the Core was unnerving, and he felt a stab of tension in his gut. The lights began to flicker back on, and Ryan raced to the large Central Control display, to find the indicator lights for Harmonic Core #3 all red, indicating a colossal failure. _How the hell has he taken out my security?_ Ryan spouted to himself, suddenly feeling the very real loss of control over his city, and his own fate.

He looked up through the glass at his city beyond, and finally knew without a doubt or hope of reprieve, that it was over. _"Fine! Fine! You want to bring it to this? I'm game!"_ He cried aloud into the chasm of his empty office. Shaking with adrenaline, Ryan pulled his genetic key from his suit pocket, and ferociously forced it into the slot in the large central control display. As he punched in a code, he suddenly felt the sweat beneath his collar. He had built the self-destruct system into Rapture as a standard procedure, in the event that the Americans, Brits or Russians had ever found it before it was completed. Building the system had been more of a statement to his inner circle that he was committed to seeing Rapture through to the end, but back then he had never envisioned actually having to activate it.

But that was then, exactly what he did. He pressed down on the final key, and closed his eyes. The first explosions were almost instantaneous... the seabed shook, and the city screamed.


	63. Chapter Sixty-Three

**Persephone - Main Atrium**

Dr Sofia Lamb was excited. She looked through the glass into the Quarantine room at Eleanor, sleeping soundly, only a babe still. Ever since she had torn the poor girl from the control of that metal beast in the Adonis Spa's, she had kept her safely protected behind locked doors.

Turning from her sleeping prodigy, Dr Lamb looked upon the select few of her flock she had summoned, around fifteen, who were gathered in the Atrium to hear her daily address. Stepping up onto a soap box and pulling the microphone towards her mouth, Dr Lamb began.

"My family - today we have taken a great step towards seizing this great city from the control of the oppressor Andrew Ryan. In addition, we have the power now to advance our own agenda - the key we have appropriated will let us condition and empower the little sisters, so that they may grow and develop into guardians of the family... of our new city!" She proudly announced, holding Sheridan's genetic key high in the air. As they applauded, screamed with delight and cheered, Dr Lamb felt pride and ambition flow though her veins. "I promise my family here and now, that nothing can destroy my resolve! Nothing can scare me or break me whilst I have the vision of our glorious family in my sights!" Her voice grew stronger and louder...

The eruption somewhere in the city beyond, rumbled through Persephone and cut Dr Lamb's speech short. The group didn't even get out a comment before a second and third explosion rocked the penal colony's foundations. The structure of the prison hung from the bedrock upon which Rapture was built, so the tremors were amplified through its suspended structure.

"What is going on?" Dr Lamb questioned on of her closest advisers, a Brute splicer stood two steps behind her. Her voice held much less enthusiasm very suddenly, and almost a level of concern.

"I 'av no idea ma'am! No idea!" He belched back in a british accent.

Further tremors sent Dr Lamb toppling from her box to the floor, and to her horror, she openly let out a cry. Alarms began to sound, klaxons calling out over the city-wide public address system. That told the group that the explosions were not specific to Persephone, but that a great cataclysm was affecting the entire city.

"Ryan! This has to be Ryan!" Sofia spat, hauling her aching body up from the floor. She looked with worry to Eleanor, who had been woken by the commotion and stood crying at the glass, calling for her mother. "Be strong, child! Mother is quite busy at the moment!" She held a hand up to the girl and looked away. The girl was confined safely, so of no concern at the moment.

A large slab of concrete fell from the ceiling, and struck two unsuspecting men in the corner of the room. "Ryan what have you done?" Dr lamb cried out, and looked through the windows, to see rocks and debris falling down past the outer walls as the city overhead started to crumble. She couldn't help letting the fear in suddenly - for so long Sofia Lamb had been sure of her plans, convinced that the waiting game would lead her to victory over Ryan and his city. She had not anticipated that there was a power that could bring the city down all at once - a self-destruct? surely even Ryan couldn't have been so self-centered to destroy thousands of people for the sake of a personal statement?

Dr Sofia Lamb, was out of control. The most out of control that she had been since she had lived through the atomic bombing of Hiroshima. The memories of the blast began to flash before her eyes, the fire and the dust cloud, the buildings crashing down and her friends being incinerated... Dr Lamb screamed. She screamed as she pictured the inevitable collapse of Persephone when these explosions would tear into it, break it open and let in the sea... would she drown? Would she be crushed?

With her legacy destroyed, and her own life about to be taken from her, Sofia Lamb cried aloud and ran towards her office door. She threw her followers out of her way, pushed them to the floor or jabbed them with her elbows to make them move. Her lips were trembling, her cheeks flowing with angry tears as she realised she was beaten. The trembling floor hurt her ankles, but she had to try and reach her office. She had the spare key for Sinclair's lifeboat - maybe she could reach it in time...

As her thoughts ran away from her, she lost her concentration, and tripped over a female splicer that lay on the floor. Dr Lamb struck the floor just short of her office door, and rolled onto her back. Staring up at the cracking cieling, she screamed with terror once again.

The tremors stopped. the explosions out in the city stopped. Everything fell eerily silent. Nobody dared move or speak, but waited to be certain the reprieve was not only temporary.

Dr Lamb sat up, and quickly looked about at her fallen flock as they scrambled to their feet and turned to her. She was ruffled, her skirt askew, her hair had fallen over her tear-stained, terrified face. As much as she tried to stop, her lower jaw still shook and the tears still ran. She was still alive, and it seemed that somehow Ryan had been stopped - the city had been saved. Yet she sensed a terrible amount of damage had still been done - not so much to the city, but here inside Persephone's Atrium. Those that had followed her so blindly, worshipped her almost as a god, had seen her break - seen her cry, and even worse, watched her try to abandon them. Mixed with their own fear, many looked angry, shocked and disgusted at their leader, their treacherous mother. None dared yet say anything aloud, but the glaring group began to grow closer...

This hatred, this distrust would spread quickly. If she didn't act quickly, everything she'd built down here could be lost. Sofia Lamb rose to her feet in a hurry, and drew the pistol from her small satchel. She uttered a final line to them, "I'm sorry, my dear friends" but she meant not one word of it. With speed and precision, she shot them all dead.


	64. Chapter Sixty-Four

**FORT FROLIC**

Edward led on his side, dazed and coughing up dust. The tremors had brought down part of the ceiling, which had toppled the chair he was tied to. The force had shattered much of the plaster he was coated in, and the metal frame had to his great relief, broken apart. He blinked his strained eyes a number of times, trying to wash out the grains of dust and plaster, as his hand wrestled free from the ropes that had tied his wrists to the frame.

Pulling his right foot out of the last surviving mound of plaster, Edward was able to heave his naked body up into an upright position. He stood exposed, cold and trembling. He was still in enormous amounts of pain from the attack by Dr Lamb's goons, and the tremendous shaking and rumbling of the city was still a mystery to him - was he to expect a wall of water to engulf Fort Frolic at any moment? Or would a flash fire be unleashed and cremate him where he stood? He had no idea...

Instinct said to escape the small room in the same direction Cohen had made off to, but still Edward hesitated, he had no way of knowing if Cohen or one of his 'disciples' were lurking just outside. Covering his exposed genitals and pulling a dust sheet from another of Cohen's statues, Edward made the first venture out through the door. He staggered through the dark, keeping two hands against the wall until he broke through a set of doors out onto the upper atrium level of Fort Frolic.

The massive space was quiet, the only noises coming from the plethora of vending machines dotted throughout the complex, and a large leak that had broken through the cieling above that was now pouring onto the central staircase that led up to Fleet Hall. The marble floors were cold and wet under Edwards bare feet, but he pressed on towards the staircase, the most direct route down and out towards the Metro Station. He gazed in horror as he looked down upon the macabre display on the atrium stage - bodies posed in plaster, holding up some dark photographs. Edward could tell instantly that was the work of Sander Cohen - the twisted fuck. He was certain that the plaster figures most likely housed corpses - as he himself had nearly become.

He managed to evade most of the pouring water on the staircase, but his feet and legs were soaked by the freezing water. He hissed at the cold aloud, but made little more of a spectacle than that - there was no point in complaining anymore, nobody down here would care. nobody in Rapture seemed to care about anything anymore, except for poor Andrew Ryan and himself. But even he now, found himself questioning how much he cared for the city anymore.

He heard some pattering feet far-off down towards Poseidon Plaza, and a few voices echoed in the distance. "Ryan's dead! Andrew _fucking_ Ryan has been murdered in Hephaestus!" A mad woman crowed to another - others cried aloud in distress at the news, but from somewhere else Edward heard chuckles and cheers at the news.

As he walked on, he chewed the news over and began to comprehend the implications. He was upset that Ryan was dead, but still the loss of Sheridan made any other loss rather incidental - it numbed any emotions. Edwards mourning and agony were for Sheridan and for him alone. He now also knew Rapture was probably beyond any form or redemption. Andrew Ryan had been perhaps the last man with vision in Rapture, and his death could surely only pave the way for lunatics, thugs and gangs. The city would fall very soon now into complete, unregulated chaos.

Naked, exposed and vulnerable, Edward ventured through the many hallways and tunnels of the Metropolis back to the only place he could think of to go - home.

**OLYMPUS HEIGHTS - MERCURY SUITES**

Passing the rotting corpses left over from the New Years Eve attacks, he began the climb up through the Mercury Suites atrium towards his Penthouse. Until the war, Edward had walked everywhere with his head held high and eyes taking in the majesty and detail of the city, but today his eyes didn't leave the floor.

He was distracted from his thoughts as he passed Cohen's apartment. He hadn't given it much thought on approach, as he'd thought Cohen to still be playing whatever sick fucking games we was thinking up back in Fort Frolic, yet he found the apartment door jammed open, with smoke and the horrific stench of burnt flesh wafting back through it. He didn't enter - Edward had no wish or intrigue as to Cohen's living style, but as he looked through into the hallway, to as much delight as Edward could summon, he saw Cohen's body sprawled out on the wooden floor. He'd been struck with a plasmid or three, that much was clear. His clothes were steaming, torn... and his flesh was charred and blistering.

Edward deviated from his route far enough to kneel down close to the body. The old bastard's make-up was cracked, worn and smudged from whatever fight he had been in, and it even made him look smashed - broken this time beyond repair. "You fucking asshole Cohen, burn in fucking hell..." Edward spat at him. The spit hit Cohen on the cheek, but unintentionally, Edward seemed to rouse the last spark of life left in the old man. He wheezed slightly, and coughed faintly, turning his small head on his jarred neck to look at the person leaning over him. He seemed to break into a bloody smile when he saw it was Edward. He showed his shattered, blood-smeared teeth and let out a long breath in delight.

Edward couldn't abide the smile, nor the man any longer. He felt the rage surfacing that he had not been the one to inflict such pain and suffering down on Sander Cohen. At least he could be the one to finish him still...

Edward took Cohen's head in both hands, and looked down to stare directly into his eyes. With every fibre of his being, with all his strength, Edward vented his pain, hatred and lust for revenge, as he channeled a furious storm of Electrobolt from both hands into Cohen's brain. "Fuck you" Edward snarled as he bared his clenched teeth and hissed as the small man's eyes boiled and burnt away, and his skin began to singe and peel. His corpse sizzled and squeaked as pockets of steam and boiling blood exploded through his skin. He very quickly fell limp.

Satisfied that Cohen was beyond any form of revival, Edward rose back to his feet, and slowly wandered back out of the apartment. He was pleased with what he had done, but still the act had not served to placate any of the heart break or despair he was baring. He began to cry again over his lost love - Sheridan, and the hopelessness now of his existence, in a dangerous, unruly world buried at sea.

A further few steps brought Edward to his home - the home he and Sheridan had shared ever since that first day they had arrived in Rapture. He stepped over the rubble and broken furniture, navigated the warping floor boards and splicer corpses that littered his hallway. He came to a stop in the lounge, beside the panoramic window. He lifted an overturned chair back onto it legs, and placed it by the glass. He wrapped the sheet tighter around his cold, naked body, then sat down. He recalled that first day again, how he had stood by that very window and gazed in complete awe at the shining city and the ocean of opportunity it had presented to a young man like him suddenly snatched from a life of servitude and dropped into such a dream.

Edward now sat alone - burnt, bruised and naked, surrounded by the wreckage of his and Sheridan's once-accomplished dreams. He could still look down on the underwater city from there as its lights still tried to shine through the murk and debris - but this time with pity, disappointment and without hope. He sighed, and as tears began to flow, he looked away from Rapture.

END OF PART ONE - If you enjoyed this part, please read on to PART TWO: ALONE WITH MY CITY! 


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